


To Die For

by FaerieBlu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Cannibalism, Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Car Sex, Character Turned Into Vampire, Coffee Shops, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dark, Dark Character, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Gore, Half-Vampires, Happy Murder Family, Human, Human Trafficking, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Vampire Relationship, Immortality, Immortals, Killing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Protagonist, Monsters, Murder, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Murderers, Physical Abuse, Semi-Public Sex, Serial Killers, Sex, Shower Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Vampire Bites, Vampire Family, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Verbal Abuse, Werewolf Reveal, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieBlu/pseuds/FaerieBlu
Summary: When Lucille's nineteenth birthday came, he expected a few certain number of things.One; He had to go into work at the cafe. Money was tight for him and his roommate, and his birthday was no exception.Two; He was going to have a nice, romantic dinner out with his boyfriend, Victor.Three; He would head home to finish off the night with a nice bath and a book before heading to bed.However, at the realization of his forgotten wallet, one walk back to his work after hours and the discovery of a bloodied knife changed everything he thought he knew about Victor and his family with one... tiny... fateful... step...Into the bloody basement.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 27
Kudos: 71





	1. A Picturesque Family

**Author's Note:**

> This story is currently a work-in-progress book that is being updated!

" _Luce_ ," Edgar called, giving Lucille's shoulder a shove, causing the snoring teen to snort before nestling himself deeper into the pillows beneath him with a string of incoherent murmurs. "Luce, get up. You can't ignore me forever, you know—you slept through your alarm, and you're going to end up being late for work." He folded his arms over his chest, watching with a look of mild satisfaction at the sudden state of panic it put into his roommate. "You're hopeless, you know. Didn't you want to get up early today so you'd get some time alone with your boyfriend this morning?"

Lucille groaned, rushing out of bed and towards his closet. "Oh, please. I get a bonus for coming in early, it's not just because of Torrey, Ed. He's just... fun to sit around and talk to in the morning, is all." He murmured, despite the blush forming on his cheeks.

The brunet drew out one of his work sweaters and a decent pair of pants to wear, then ducked into the bathroom to change. He stripped off his shirt and pants, tossing them onto the floor before twisting the knobs on the shower to allow steaming water to billow out of the showerhead in warm, pleasant waves that brought a pinkish tint to his fair skin.

He gazed into the mirror at his reflection, rubbing at a tender mark painting his cheek red from sleeping on his pillow wrong. Lucille had dark brown, nearly black messy hair, just a few touches lighter than Edgar's. It barely reached past his shoulders due to him ignoring his roommate's pleas for him to see a stylist to get it cut.

Lucille's eyes were close to forest green in color, adorned with gentle flecks of gold. He had a button nose with freckles along the bridge that were obscured by his frameless, ovular glasses, and five odd freckles speckled across his right cheek. ‘Staples of his cuteness,’ as Victor had so lovingly called them.

Victor—or Torrey, as Victor had insisted for everyone to call him—was his fellow employee and boyfriend at a local café called To Die For. He was the son of the owners, Noah and Vaughn, and one of the absolute sweetest, kindest people that Lucille had ever meant, not to mention he was passively affectionate on occasion with his warm, tender hugs.

Lucille would be lying if he said that he didn't absolutely adore him. Torrey was Lucille's definition of aesthetically and beautifully perfect, with bright, golden hair, eyes the color of a glowing orange sunset, and sweet, freckled skin that always held the soothing scent of honey and lavender.

They were a picturesque family if Lucille had ever seen one; Noah had graduated from a prestigious college for two degrees in business and medical studies, while Vaughn was a published author, and had previously taught at a high school level before deciding to work full time at the café. Victor was the apple of their eyes, and they did everything to show that they cherished him.

It made Lucille a little jealous.

"You know," Edgar called, flopping back onto the bed. "I get that you want to spend time with your boyfriend, but going to work on your birthday tomorrow?" He folded his arms behind his head. "That seems a little overkill, man."

" _Eddy_." Lucille shook his head in disbelief, stepping into the shower. " We're scraping by with rent. And while I would love to kick back and order Chinese takeout while we drink two packs of soda over a movie like before, I..." A prideful smile graced his face. "I finally found someone who wants to take me out, and I have bills to pay." Lucille stretched his arms out over his head, allowing the warm water to roll down his aching back. "And what better way to spend my birthday than earning my living wages and seeing my boyfriend at the same time? Two birds with one stone."

"Ugh," Edgar took a few rolls around on the bed until he ended up in a decent position, leaning his legs up against the wall. "That Victor's always been a weird one since high school," he mumbled. "I heard a rumor once that he drank blood from a dead deer on the side of the road."

Lucille rolled his eyes with a scoff. "You're ridiculous, Ed. You know half the people hated him because he was gay. Let alone the fact that he was adopted into a family with two dads." He lathered shampoo into his hair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Not to mention it _was_ us who had adopted him into our friend group because we'd had enough after finding him beaten up half to death in the locker rooms."

Edgar shoved a pillow onto his face, crossing his legs. "Don't remind me. Even then, he was _all_ over you. Following you around like a lost puppy dog." He heaved a sigh. "And then I became the third wheel. Although now," the teen paused to hum to himself, folding his arms behind his back. "I'm more of a... two and a half wheel, considering we're roommates."

"Well," Lucille began, turning off the water and reaching out for his towel. "I couldn't just... move in with him and his family after having dated for a few months." He stepped out of the shower, drying off his chest before tucking the towel around his waist. "We're childhood friends—attached at the hip. And if I would have broken up with Victor, I don't know what I would have done living in the same house as him."

A chuckle slipped from Edgar, and he rolled back over, heaving himself off of the edge of the bed and clasping his hands on Lucille's shoulders. "You would be suffering in a house full of awkwardness for the rest of your days until you decided to move out," he stated, patting his back before turning to leave the room. "We're officially moving your b-day celebration tonight as of right now, bt-dubs so don't think just because you have a boyfriend now we're not going to have some sort of hangout."

"Every day technically counts as a hangout, Ed."

"Maybe, but this one has cake." Edgar shut the door behind him. "Now get to work, dumbass!"

———

His venture to work wasn't much; just walking a few blocks until he reached a bus stop that would take him almost directly in front of the café. It was a half hour deal, tops. Sometimes a few minutes late because of traffic, but the bus shaved off a good half hour from the amount of time it would take him to walk to work. That, and taking the bus gave him the opportunity to write.

Lucille was a type of... aspiring author, of sorts. He didn't really see it as something that would give him a promising future, so it was always put on the back burner of his other priorities as something he did in his spare time. But he figured if he could ever manage to crank out a book or two, it might be able to provide some extra loose change to keep in his pockets from royalties.

His skills weren't the best, but he'd been handing off some of his work to Edgar for years to read over for him. He seemed intrigued, and a little impressed by them, occasionally taking the time to ask him a few questions. It was mostly just random tidbits of fiction he'd get a sudden inspiration to jot down. Other times, it was some of his thoughts, writing about Victor—anything that came to mind, really.

As he took a seat on the bus, he lifted an older looking, lightly rain stained journal from a bag at his side, plucking a pen from the cover and clicking it open, flicking to the next blank page in his notebook and leaning back against his seat. He pinched the pen between his index finger and middle, tapping it against his thigh as he contemplated what to jot down.

"Mm..." He propped his journal on his knee, resting an elbow on the armrest of his chair. The thought of his birthday was nagging at the back of his mind, present and tugging his subconscious.

He recalled his last birthday with Edgar, Torrey, and his dad. It wasn't so bad; the three of them, two pizzas, curling up next to Torrey on the couch...

A flinch coursed through him as a mother and her daughter sat themselves down beside him, and he angled his body towards the window, gazing off at the sidewalk.

Ever since the previous year's events, Lucille had been reluctant to celebrate his birthday. His father had noticed how suspiciously close he and Torrey were for weeks before the party had been arranged; close to the start of their relationship. But at his party when Lucille had been caught nestled snugly in Victor's chest, things had gone downhill. There was yelling—almost screaming. Homophobic slurs, threats...

Within a week, he was living with Edgar, who, at the time, had graduated a year prior to Lucille and Torrey, and had his apartment to offer him shelter. He hadn't talked for a few days after completely moving his things in, but Ed hadn't questioned him about anything he hadn't wanted to talk about.

It was less of a sore subject now, a year later, but Lucille couldn't help but think that even though his father had since moved across the state and cut contact with him, he'd find a way to ruin his birthday again.

At that moment, he decided he'd write about a kind, gentle young man; a runaway from a kingdom of tyranny. In minutes, he'd managed nearly half a page.

_And as the runaway's feet pounded against the gravel as he ran, he found himself falling before he'd realized. His body thudded against the cobblestone street, a cry of pain echoing through the empty night. However, a gloved hand was extended towards him, and he looked up... to find a prince whose eyes were the color of golden flames._

_"Come with me," the prince spoke._

_"Who—who are you?"_

_A soft, inviting smile, and a laugh that tinkled like a sweetened bell._

_"Victor."_

Before he knew it, the bus was lurching to a stop, and he threw a hand up against the back of the seat in front of him to stop himself from being tossed into it. He stood up, making his way towards the front.

Lucille stepped off onto the sidewalk, stopping to stretch for a moment after having been made to suffer in a cramped seat. The woman and her daughter had been arguing about whether or not the girl deserved to get something or other from a store on their way home. It made for interesting background noise while he worked on his writing, but his journal pages were littered with scribbles from the sudden bumps of the bus and him writing the wrong word from accidentally tuning in too much to the conversations around him.

He gazed up at the cafe, tucking all of his personal effects into his work bag. "Time for work, Luce. The teen pushed open the door to the café, almost instantly greeted by a head of golden hair tilting towards him, followed by a bright smile. "Hey, good morning!" He chuckled, pushing his hair back with a hand as Torrey hurried out from behind the counter he was in the midst of cleaning up. "Tell me that you left me something to clean up, at least?"

"Not a chance, shortcake. Not on your almost birthday." Torrey tittered, hugging his arms around Lucille's waist. He dropped a gentle kiss upon Lucille's lips, humming as his boyfriend cupped his cheeks in his palms. "I missed you, honey-bun. I know you were just here yesterday, but I couldn't help thinking of your handsome face." The blond smoothed his hands over the back of Lucille's shoulders, nestling himself deep into the shorter teen's chest. "I made some pastries earlier, right before you got in. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"I haven't." Lucille peppered Torrey's hair with kisses, then gave him a light push away from his chest. "But you'll have to stop clinging to my sweater for me to get to the oven, Torrey." He offered him a teasing grin, to which Torrey responded by giving a grunt of protest. "Come on, I'm sure we can hug, and cuddle whenever you want later before I head home for the night."

Torrey heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "I know, but you're here right now." He murmured. "We're not opened yet, so if you..." the teen trailed, walking Lucille into the counter, "want to go up to my room and have us a little fun... take a shower? Get you all freshened up and in that cute little uniform of yours, honey-bun?"

A soft chuckle slipped from Lucille, and he leaned in close. "Are you tempting me, Torrey?” He pecked his lips. “I already took a shower, see? My hair's still damp."

" _Boys_ ," Noah scolded, making his way down the stairs, dressed in a sleek, white button-down shirt, a pair of black pants, and a red apron embroidered with his name and the name of their café below it on his chest. A playful warning expression was displayed on his face, and he folded his arms over his chest, leaning up against the wall. "Come on and get ready to open, okay? Luce, if you would like to make yourself breakfast, our home is yours, but please keep the more intimate activities to a dull roar until _after_ we close, loves."

"Yes sir," Lucille laughed, patting Torrey's shoulder and moving into the kitchen to retrieve the aforementioned pastries from the oven. They were freshly cooked strawberry hand pies, all of which had heart patterns that had been poked into the crust. "Torrey, you didn't!"

Victor chuckled. "Maybe I did it on purpose, maybe I didn't. You'll never know."

"Oh!" Noah placed his hands onto Lucille's shoulders. "I have to get tables set up, my dear, but if you would be so willing to get a small tub of flour from the basement, I would appreciate that very much. I made the mistake of miscounting what we needed for today's pastries."

"Of course! Be right down." Lucille slipped on a pair of oven mitts, lifting the tray from the oven and placing them on the counter to cool. He grinned over at Torrey, handing him the mitts to use. "I'll eat one when they cool off, babe. They smell delicious." The teen grabbed his work apron, tying it around his back and starting towards the basement door. "Be back in a jiffy! I'll get to prepping afterwards."

He drew the door open, flicking the switch, causing a pale glow to illuminate the staircase, leading down to the tile flooring below. The teen stretched out his arms, reaching a hand into the pocket of his apron and tying up his hair. "Alrighty... flour, flour, flour..." Lucille surveyed the stock room, spotting a tub of flour stacked on a shelf. "There!" He moved to the table, which held a notebook to keep track if the stock, tallying another flour tub.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a few drops of red on the floor. He furrowed his brows, a frown drifting over his lips. "Wh... blood?" Lucille set down the notebook, glancing around to find more droplets. The teen trailed after it, confused when they cut off at the wall.

"Luci! Gotta prep for this morning's batch of muffins, hon!"

"Uh—coming!" Lucille shook his head and took a flour tub into his arms, making his way up the stairs. A feeling of unease set into his chest, and he glanced back towards the floor, then hummed and flicked the light off, closing the door behind him. "Hey... Vic?" He placed the tub on the counter beside Victor, who was in the midst of measuring out sugar. "I don't mean to interrupt, sweetie pie, but I saw a bit of blood on the floor?"

"Blood?" Torrey hummed, unbothered, brushing his thumb over Lucille's lips and capturing them in his own. "Aww, there's no need to worry honey; I just had a bit of a bloody nose earlier when I was restocking and couldn't find a tissue fast enough." He lifted the lid of the flour tub, taking out a measuring cup. "By the _way_ ," the blond began, bumping the side of his hip to Lucille's, playfully pushing him a few inches, earning a light nudge in response. "Do you have any plans for tonight, future birthday boy?"

" _Torrey_ ," Lucille laughed, helping his lover by measuring out brown sugar. "Today's movie night with Eds, actually. He’d kill me if I bailed." He let out a yawn. "Are you going to be alright working the kitchen alone with Vee today while I work the register?"

Torrey groaned. "I don't know, angel... I'm feeling pretty faint... I might need you to stay back here to make sure I don’t pass out on the job..."

"You can kiss today's wages goodbye and rest upstairs then, my dear," Vaughn remarked, raising a brow from the kitchen door leading into to the café, causing Torrey to jolt. "Good morning, Luci darling. Happy early birthday!"

Lucille chuckled. "Thank you, Vee." He stood back from measuring, plucking a pie from the tray and taking a bite. "And delicious, as always. But," the brunet paused, raising a finger. "What would really make these shine would be—"

"Ah!" Vaughn clapped his hands together. "An icing glaze!" He tousled Lucille's hair, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You know, Victor stayed up nearly all night making the recipe for the pies. I personally think he's just trying to butter you up for your birthday."

" _Dad_ ," Victor scolded. "It was just... a little recipe."

A wry grin widened over Lucille's face. "Cut him a break, Vee. If either of you need help back here, I'll be out front serving and working the register."

Vaughn waved a hand as Lucille strode out of the kitchen, turning back towards his son. "Now, should we ice these dangerous, man-catching pies of yours, or let them cool down a bit more?"

———

Lucille's work day was considerably simple; he would help Noah take orders and seat people when the lines got too long, grab fresh orders of pastries from the kitchen, and bring over their coffee or tea. It was never really too busy; at least not for four people, especially when Vaughn came out to help in the front after the morning rush.

Eventually, during the afternoon, the majority of their influx would have petered out, and their main crowd would shift to being students from the local community college.

Having just finished delivering a fresh scone to a regular customer's table, Lucille moved towards an empty neighboring table to clear it of wrappers and give it a basic wipe-down. His phone gave a light series of buzzes from his back pocket, and he leaned back, pressing a button and letting out a sigh. "Lunch break already?"

As he made his way into the kitchen, he found Vaughn seated at the table sipping from a mug while flipping through a few pages of his book with Victor concentrated on working at a bowl of dough for sugar cookies in the kitchen. He stepped over to the fridge, opening a drawer that he'd kindly been allowed to use to store his premade sandwiches for the week and lifting a turkey sandwich into his palms.

"Luci?" Vaughn furrowed his brows, glancing to the clock. "It's one already, is it? Ah... I was supposed to go back almost a half hour ago."

"It's more than fine, Vee! I've been handling everything."

Vaugh chuckled. "This is the third time this week I've missed the end of my break, Lucille. I'm surprised Noah didn't come to get me."

"Well," Lucille seated himself beside Vaughn at the table, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a hefty bite. "Noah and I sort of have a mutual agreement to not disturb you when you're so focused. Besides, I never really mind." He motioned towards the old, age-worn book, tilting his head to the side and pointing to the well-stocked bookshelf in the living room. "I don't think I've seen that one on the shelf before."

"This?" Vaughn angled the cover towards Lucille with a smile. "Robin Hood. It's a part of my personal collection, actually; the ones I have stowed away. It's a first edition, but don't tell anyone I told you." He placed a thin, red leather bookmark with golden ferns painted and sealed over it into the crease of his book, folding it shut and placing it a safe distance away from his mug.

Lucille hummed, tapping the bookmark. "Glad to see your Christmas present is being put to a good use."

How could I not use it?" Vaughn returned Lucille's grin, taking another sip from his mug. "After all, you did make it yourself." The man drummed his fingertips along the edge of the table, then sighed. "I know it's your lunch break, but... do you have the time for a discussion?"

A feeling of unease settled in Lucille's chest, and he preemptively cleared his throat to prevent it from cracking as he spoke. "S-sure thing. What did you want to talk about?"

"Actually, I wanted to discuss your salary," the brunet folded his arms over the table, noticing the nervous expression on Lucille's face. "Noah and I have been thinking; with how many hours you dedicate to us, and all of the positivity you bring to the workplace both around us and from customer reviews... we'd like to offer you a raise."

"A-a _raise_?" Tears welled up in Lucille's eyes, and he bit down hard on his lip. "I couldn't, Sir, I'd feel bad, I already make thirteen an hour..."

Vaughn raised an inquisitive brow at the teen. "Luci, we rake in more than enough to afford giving you one. You'd be making fifteen, dear. Earning sixteen more per day—" He was cut off as Lucille threw his arms around his chest in a hug, and the man tittered, rubbing circles into the brunet's back when he began to snivel. "Aww darling... don't cry."

"E-Eddy and I—" Lucille sniffed, "Eddy and I can barely afford rent and bills—this is going to help so much!"

"Oh, Luci..." Vaughn attempted to soothe him, rocking him in his arms and ruffling his hair.

A knock sounded against the kitchen door, and Noah poked his head in. "Er... sorry to interrupt, but we have... a sort of... _situation_ in the front, my dearest heart."

Vaughn's exterior air of gentle warmth darkened, and a strange, unfamiliar look Lucille had never seen before shone in his eyes. "Speak of the Devil and he shalt appear," he muttered. "Not to worry, love, I'll handle it."

"No, no! Don't worry," Lucille insisted. "I can probably handle it. I should get back anyways—"

"Uh, Luci," Torrey whispered, looking up from mixing the dough and shaking his head in protest. "I'd just let Dads take care of this."

Lucille groaned. "I'm not just some defenseless damsel, Torr." He pushed past the kitchen door, abandoning his lunch on the table, stopping in surprise when he saw Edgar and a few mutual friends from community college he recognized. "Er... hey, Eds! I didn't know you came here; I've never seen you during my hours." The teen motioned towards the displays. "Can I get you three anything?"

Edgar chuckled. "We rarely show up here, Luci, that's why." He drew his wallet out of his pocket, a smirk drawing across his face as Vaughn stepped out behind the counter. "Just want a seat and a few donuts for Misha, Jasper and I—your choice—along with a few iced coffees? But I'll take a mocha."

Vaughn clenched a fist, letting out a steady breath before flexing out his hand. "Mister Edgar Jones..."

"Mister Bathory!" Edgar offered a cheery smile that seemed too over exaggerated and strained to be anywhere near genuine. It made Lucille frown. "We're just here for some after lunch snacks, and to drop by to say hello. Just had a club meeting, and decided we'd stop to eat at the best bakery in town, you know?"

A curious, concerned look flickered over Lucille's face. "Hey, Vee, I can deal with the order, if you want?" He looked to Edgar. "Follow me!"

He could feel a piercing gaze following after them as he led Edgar and his friends over to a booth nearest to the entrance.


	2. Sneaking Suspicions

" _So_ ," Lucille began, placing his keys on the countertop and shutting the apartment door behind him, scuffing his feet against their welcome mat. "What's the deal with you and Vee back there during lunch rush?"

Edgar heaved a sigh, a frown donning his lips. "Erm... it's hard to explain, Luce." He leaned up against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but my parents and Torrey's dads never really got along. Mutual enemies, I guess; from way back when they were still in school together? We're sort of... not entirely allowed near the café, but I figured that I'd just pop in for a few drinks and donuts." He gave Lucille a sincere, apologetic frown. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, really. I thought I could make it quick and be in and out."

"How could Mister Bathory not like you?" Lucille's voice was nearly a scoff. Edgar was one of his favorite people to walk the earth, so it was hard to believe that a family feud would create such a rift. "We've been Torrey's best friend for _years_ , that has to be worth something into your favor."

There was a moment of silence, and Edgar drew in a deep breath. "Can I be honest? Without you getting too angry?" He averted his gaze to the floor. "I don't... actually like Victor, Luci. Not a whole lot. I was civil with him because he was your friend." Edgar bit his lip. "I dunno... he just gives me weird vibes. I'm not sure what exactly, but I've always had this feeling—my family's always had this feeling... that there's something up with those guys."

Lucille made a face, moving into the kitchen to grab a bag of popcorn to eat during their movie. "Do they listen to our high school rumors about the Callahans, too?" He asked. "Or is that just their own biases from their school days?"

"I'm serious, Lucille. I swear on our fifteen years of friendship that there's something off." Edgar shrugged his shoulders. "Promise me you'll be careful, alright?"

The teen shrugged, strangely unable to tell if Edgar was messing with him or being genuinely serious. "I'll be careful, Eds. I swear," he said, but it was mostly for Edgar's own peace of mind. He unwrapped the popcorn, setting it in the microwave and hitting the respective timer setting, then grabbed a bowl from the cupboards and set it on the counter to wait. "What'll it be tonight? Romance, sci-fi, comedy?"

Edgar cut two slices from Lucille's cake, easing them onto paper plates and bringing them over to the coffee table before the couch. He considered for a moment, then took hold of the remote and clicked the power button. "Comedy sounds nice. Want me to grab some blankets and pillows?"

"Definitely," Lucille agreed. "After being on my feet all day, I could probably fall asleep on the couch tonight with no problem."

"I'll grab them—make sure the popcorn doesn't burn!"

"I would never!" The brunet leaned over the counter, leaning his cheek on his palm with a huff. Mentioning his long work day caused realization to strike, and he acknowledged that his body felt heavier than earlier, his legs and heels sore from running around in an older pair of shoes for eight hours. "Hell, I'm exhausted."

Edgar returned dressed in a grey shirt fit with black plaid pajama bottoms, carrying with him blankets and pillows, which he promptly dumped onto the couch. He flopped himself across the cushions, waiting until Lucille approached with a fresh bowl of popcorn to move his legs aside and recline his side the couch to get comfortable. "I've got something to watch queued up. Take a seat and we can get to our yearly celebration of your ass getting older."

"Two more years of this and I can drink. Then I suppose we can upgrade our celebration to include some hard cider instead of sodas, or something?"

"The second you're legally allowed to drink, I am dragging you to a bar; make no mistake of that." Edgar leaned his head against Lucille's thigh, shoveling a fistful of popcorn into his mouth and twisting open a bottle of soda before pressing play on the movie. "Where are you and Victor going for dinner tomorrow, anyhow? Are you headed out after work?"

Lucille rested his elbow on Edgar's back. "Just a seafood and steakhouse that he'll most likely insist on paying for entirely. We should be leaving right after work so that I don't have to pay extra bus fares." He patted his roommate's shoulder with a gentle hand. "I should be back by eleven unless I receive a generous invitation to Torrey's bedroom."

Edgar scoffed, shoving a pillow into Lucille's face before setting it behind his head. "Who would've thought you'd be boning your high school stalker back in freshman year, eh?"

"He didn't stalk me, Eds. He just didn't have any other friends. He was a new student," Lucille remarked. "Now hush up—movie time."

He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep until snores began to arise from Edgar. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the TV across from them. The movie was still in the middle of playing, but with his drowsy languor and his roommate snoring away using his stomach as a pillow, he didn't think they would be fit to enjoy the rest.

Lucille patted around for the remote, pressing the power button on the TV and giving Edgar's hair a tousle. "Night, Eds," he murmured, then dropped his head back onto the pillow and drifted back into his dreamless slumber.


	3. Baneful Birthday

Lucille leaned his head onto Victor's shoulder, watching the lights of the surrounding buildings whizz past them as his lover drove them to their dinner reservation at the more high-end edge of town. " _So_ ,anything special planned for tonight other than this lovely outing you chose for the two of us?"

Victor chuckled, leaning over to peck Lucille's cheek. "Well, if you must know, I was wondering..." He laid a hand on his boyfriend's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Would you be interested in... say... staying the night tonight? My dads said it would be fine with them, so long as we keep the noise level down."

"How about we do something a little better?" Lucille tilted his head. "Edgar won’t be home until early in the morning, and we’d have the apartment to ourselves." He let his eyes fall shut, a soft smile donning his lips. "Besides, I... like my bed. It's not as comfy as yours, but it's small enough for two of us to lay down; you'd have no choice but to lay close."

"I always lay close to you, hon. And I'd be more than happy to." Torrey returned a sheepish, wry version of Lucille's smile. "Though it _is_ a bit cute when you walk over to my side of the bed just to bury yourself into my chest."

"Dick," Lucille scoffed out in disbelief. "And here I was thinking you did it because you were so tired that you wanted to fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow."

In mere minutes, they reached the parking lot, and Victor led Lucille out of the car, tossing his keys to the valet. "You ready, hon?" He wrapped an arm around Lucille's waist, moving to lead him inside.

"Ready as I'll ever be, Torr.” Lucille allowed himself to be brought into the establishment, albeit a bit reluctantly, gasping softly at the interior.

The floor was made up of silver and white, well-polished granite floor tiles, the walls a rich, dark shade of blue. There was a deep, mahogany hostess stand with gold bordered menus, attended by a striking young woman in a uniform with a white, sleeveless button-up blouse and a skirt colored a lighter blue than the wall.

He gazed at the booths, which looked to be made of an expensive brand of black leather, a series of silver buttons creasing it into a diamond shaped pattern. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the restaurant in a pale, almost moonlit glow. The view combined with soft, melodic piano music flowing smoothly through the air stole the breath from Lucille's lungs.

"V-Vic," Lucille breathed, his knees weakening beneath him. "This... this is too... too..."

Torrey tutted. "Nuh-uh. No backing out now." He laughed as Lucille hid himself behind his back, leading him towards the hostess stand. "Reservation for Callahan! Seven o'clock?"

"Vic!" Lucille hissed. "I can't let you do this!"

"Relax, baby," Torrey soothed him. "Please... this was the least I could have done for you on your special day, now please, let me pamper you for the night. I love getting to spoil my precious, even if it makes you squeal and blush like a cherry."

The two were led to a secluded booth in a corner of the restaurant. Lucille noticed as they passed fellow restaurant patrons that the strangers seemed to be giving him odd, almost hungry, and curious looks. A shiver rolled down his spine, but he shook it away and cleared his throat.

At the booth, they were offered two menus. Immediately, Lucille noticed that his menu didn't have any listed prices.

Torrey gazed fondly at the brunet seated across from him, reaching out to take hold of his trembling hand and lacing their fingers together to comfort him. "Hey," He began softly, offering him a gentle smile and running his thumb over Lucille's palm. "What's wrong, Luci? If you're really not comfortable in a place like this, you can tell me. After all, it's my job to make sure that my boyfriend is happy."

Lucille tittered, holding his free hand over his face to hide his grin, and he shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine, babe, this is just... the first time I've ever been on a birthday date—let alone one this extravagant—so I'm a bit nervous," he admitted, giving his boyfriend's hand a tight squeeze. "And if I remember correctly, I made it clear that I didn't want to go somewhere expensive. And this restaurant doesn't have it's prices on my menu," the teen remarked, then added, " _But_... thank you. It looks and smells very nice in here. I might have trouble keeping my appetite under wraps."

"Oh?" The blond leaned forward, tilting his head, curious. "I'd be happy to get you whatever you like, my love. But I should be the one thanking you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. I know you've never spent a birthday away from Edgar before." He drew Lucille's hand closer, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Really, I mean it. Thank you."

The latter's cheeks flushed, becoming dusted with a light shade of pink. "No, I'm thanking you, Torr. For taking the time to get to know me even a little bit. Especially since I'm not everyone's cup of tea, and stuff." Lucille moved his hand away, taking a sip from the glass of water at his side. "Anyways, don't worry. You have nothing to worry about with Edgar, since he found something to do," he assured.

Footsteps approached their table, and one of the waitresses that had been previously hovering over another couple mosied over with two club sodas. "And here are your early refreshments." She slid the two drinks onto the table with a bright, beaming smile. "One for the man and his lovely... er..."

" _Boyfriend_ ,” Lucille quipped, before the waitress could manage to have a chance to move her lips to speak. "I'm his... boyfriend."

"Of course. Do enjoy!"

As the waitress strode off, Torrey gave Lucille a look, raising a brow at him. "So, what'll it be for your stomach tonight, Luci?" He asked, flourishing his menu and gazing down at the contents. "They have lobster. Do you like lobster, honey-bun?" Torrey asked, when he noticed that Lucille hadn't so much as opened his menu. "Didn't you just say you were hungry?"

"Oh!" Lucille jolted up, opening his menu and thumbing through it, embarrassed. "Yes, yes, of course, I'm starving."

Torrey snickered. "Go on, pick anything you want, babe." He skimmed down the wide display of food inside the pages, when he felt Lucille tap his forearm. "Yeah?"

A nervous look flickered on the teen's face, and he bit his lip. "You wouldn't mind if I got a small sandwich, would you? I'd hate for you to spend too much on me, Torrey; really, I would." He laughed nervously, leaning into Torrey's touch as he cupped his cheek. "You earned your money yourself, you don't need to be wasting too much of it on me."

"Oh, come on, Luci." Torrey leaned in, pinching Lucille's cheek. "I'm not going to be happy unless you get something over forty to eat." He sat back in his seat, going back to browsing. "Really though, don't worry about the prices. This restaurant is exclusive, and my family knows the owner, so we get special discounts."

Lucille shifted about in his seat, mildly uncomfortable. He didn't want to have his boyfriend spend upwards of half a hundred dollars on him for dinner, and doubted that the discounts would cut the prices by much.

He wanted to order a mountain of food, of course, but he didn't want to come across as a money leech if he were to admit that he were practically starving. After all, he had forgotten to restock his lunches, so his stomach was empty with the exception of some new pastries Victor had him taste test, and a coffee he bought on his break.

Eventually, he managed to settle on picking out something he'd have an easier time eating, which was a steak and assorted vegetables. He glanced up to Torrey. "Can—can I get a steak? A really rare one? And maybe—maybe that um... lobster you were talking about?"

Victor nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, of course!" He gently pecked Lucille's cheek before reaching beneath the table and pulling out a brightly colored bag filled to the brim with light tissue paper. "In the meantime, I have a present for you! How about I order our food for us, and you go to the bathroom to freshen up a bit and try it on, hm?"

Lucille nodded, feeling his face heat up. "Uh-huh! Y-yes... sure. Um... where?"

"Down to the left of the entrance, baby."

The brunet stood from his seat, rushing his way towards the bathroom, where he ducked into a stall and lifted the tissue paper from the bag, nearly dropping it onto the floor when he found a small, ruby colored, velvet box.

Victor anxiously bit his lip, wondering why Lucille was taking so long in the restroom. A nagging voice in the back of his mind was whispering that the brunet had slipped out of the restaurant without him noticing, but he knew him well enough to be sure that Lucille wouldn't do anything that could be considered even remotely rude. Not on purpose, at least.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of awkwardly poking at his plate of a steak filet seafood to keep himself occupied during the lengthy wait, he decided to get up and check on him. The stress of anticipation shook loose a dozen frantic butterflies inside his stomach, which fluttered further and further down into his gut as he approached the restroom door. He reached out a shaking hand towards the polished, faux gold plate set into the marble, pushing it inwards.

A series of soft, quiet sobs sounded from inside one of the stalls, soon followed by a feeble hiccup. All of the bathroom stalls were open except for one, the source of the noises. Victor stepped towards the stall, knocking softly, furrowing his brows in concern. "Luci, you in there?" He called out, earning a gasp in response. "Is something wrong, honey-bun?"

"N-no, I—I just—I..." Lucille mopped the tears from his cheeks, a hiccup slipping from his lips. He let out a sob, leaping up to squeezing his arms around his waist. "I-I love you so much!"

"Aww... it's just a little ring, Luci," Victor pinched Lucille's cheek. "I saw you eyeing it when we were out shopping to fix my family ring, and... I figured I'd snatch it up in a bow for you, little angel."

Lucille giggled, easing onto Victor's shoulder. "I almost panicked at first—it felt like my chest was floating; I thought you were trying to propose to me, and while I was in a bathroom, no less!"

Torrey hummed, gazing down at the golden ring he'd bought that was adorned with three vibrant green diamonds set in the center that matched the color of Lucille's eyes almost to a T. "Would you be opposed to something like that?" He queried, his tone warm and sincere. "Getting engaged to me someday? Although I'm not sure how my heart could survive the sight of my adorable honey in a custom tailored white tux."

"Does that mean I'd get to see the illustrious Victor Valentine Callahan wearing a wedding dress?"

"Oh, you could dream, babe." Torrey swabbed the tears from Lucille's cheeks, bringing him over towards the sink and smoothing a towel wet with chilling cold water over his bleary eyes to reduce the redness. "Our food's getting a touch cold, hon. And you won't want to wait to see what's for dessert after we finish our main course."

A shocked expression flickered over Lucille's face. "You ordered dessert? Victor, how dare you!"

Back at the table, there were multiple plates neatly arranged in a circle; Lucille's steak and lobster, Victor's filet, a salad, truffle fries, and chocolate coated strawberries that had been dipped both light brown and white chocolate.

Despite Lucille’s internal anxieties surrounding eating expensive foods, he began to make steady work of the steak, occasionally picking at the salad for croutons. The lobster had a lemon butter dip, causing Lucille’s mouth to water as he slid a bite past his lips. The restaurant had by far surpassed anything he’d ever tasted—or managed to make himself.

“What’s the score, honey-bun?”

“Mmph—” Lucille gave a muffled hum for Victor to wait a minute, swallowing the monstrous bite in his mouth before clearing his throat. “Graded from one to ten? The score’s an even twenty.”

A thankful, overjoyed expression played at Torrey’s face. “I’m glad.”

Dessert was two slices of a chocolate fudge cake with rich, creamy frosting and a side of what looked to be homemade vanilla and chocolate ice cream with a hot fudge syrup drizzled over the scoops. The sight of it made Lucille’s stomach turn, but he ignored it and immediately sank his fork into his cake slice, mixing it with a small bit of the ice cream.

Victor was finding it amusing to watch Lucille gawk over the flavors, and scooped up frosting onto his fork before poking it towards Lucille’s lips. “Open up!”

“Vic,” Lucille tittered, allowing him to slip it into his mouth. “It almost tastes better when it’s from you.”

“Well I, for one, wouldn’t be opposed to feeding you a few more bites to watch your eyes light up.”

A bud of warmth blossomed in the brunet’s chest, and he snickered. “You are terribly sappy, do you know that?” He scooped up a piece on his fork for Victor, turning the tables on him, delighted when his boyfriend took it from him and gave a dramatic gasp of awe. “Dammit—get your face over here,” Lucille chuckled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Where would I be without you, Victor?”

“Hmm...” Victor considered the thought for a moment. “A lonely twink in a harsh, cruel world that has no Torrey to give it some special pizazz?”

“Ouch?”

“The truth hurts, Lucy.”

———  
“I know I should be super full after dinner,” Lucille spoke, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth. “But these nachos were too killer to pass up popping in the microwave for a movie.”

Torrey chuckled. “Careful, or you might burst.” He plucked a chip from the bowl, popping it in his mouth and leaning into Lucille’s chest before glancing back at the TV. “Hey, isn’t this when—” The blond glanced over at Lucille as he clutched his hand at the jump scare on the TV screen, gasping as his boyfriend's movement caused his bowl of nachos to spill onto the brunet's dress pants. "Oh! Shit, let me get that!"

"No, no, it was an accident, it's alright!" Lucille heaved out a shaky sigh and began placing the nachos back into the bowl, then groaned at the sight of the hot melted cheese on his thigh, crying out as it began to burn his leg. " _Ow_! Ouch—it burns!"

"Here—quick, just take them off, Luci! God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." Torrey slowed to a pause as Lucille tugged off his pants, then cleared his throat, snorting at the sight of his boxers, which had rows of small rubber ducks on them. "Oh... oh my god. Are those... oh my _god_ , babe, are you seriously wearing rubber duck boxers? How have I not seen these before?”

Lucille's cheeks flared with heat, and he tossed a blanket over Torrey's face, drawing his knees into his chest and grabbing another blanket for himself. "H-hey! Eyes off!" He cried, then glanced down to his leg and sighed, prodding lightly at the burn mark. "Damn, it hurts..." The teen murmured, giving a squeak when Torrey tossed the blanket back at him to look at the mark. "Not so close, Torr! It's—it's just a little burn, it's nothing big, but you shouldn’t touch it."

The blond gently lifted Lucille's leg upwards, pressing a soft kiss to the mark on his inner thigh. "Does it feel any better now, baby?" He asked softly, his breath hitching when Lucille pushed him back. "I-I'm so sorry if I overstepped your boundaries, Luce, I―" Torrey was cut off by a pair of lips crashing into his own, and his eyes widened in surprise. He carefully placed the bowl of nachos on the bedside table, turned off the TV, and settled his hands on the brunet’s hips, delving deep into the kiss.

"Um... hey... I wouldn't be opposed to you staying the night more often, you know,” Lucille admitted in a shy, quiet tone. "I just think it would be cool to see you wake up in my bed instead of yours? Make breakfast in the world’s smallest kitchen?” He drew off Torrey’s shirt, wrapping his arms around him. “Don’t get me wrong; I love staying over at your house, but here it feels more... intimate.”

Victor paused, letting out a sigh. “As much as I would love to do that, babe, you know Edgar doesn’t like having me over.” He brushed a thumb over Lucille’s cheek, a bit disappointed when he saw the look of surprise on his face. “He’s not exactly subtle, Luci. I figured out he doesn’t like me a while back now.”

“I guess...” Lucille cupped Torrey’s face in his palms. “Okay—let’s get the focus off of that and have us a little fun, got it?” He offered Torrey a faux wounded look, beginning to push him away. “Unless, of course... you have something against people who have rubber ducks on their underwear."

Torrey laughed, shaking his head. "You’re ridiculous, Luci. Besides, even if I was opposed to your questionable taste in boxers, I don't think I'll be seeing those ducks for much longer."

A titter slipped from Lucille, and he nestled himself in Torrey's chest, wrapping his legs around him. "You're unbelievable."

Torrey moved his lips against Lucille's collarbone, beginning to unbutton the brunet’s shirt, and he slid it off painfully slow, finding amusement in Lucille’s growing impatience the longer he took. "Are you sure you want to do this, Luci?” He gave a teasing smile. “It's alright if you don't want to."

Lucille scoffed, laying back on the sheets. "Don’t be an ass." He drew the blond close, kissing him softly and running his hands through Torrey's hair. "Now c’mere."

Victor pinned Lucille against the sheets, gently smoothing his hands over his chest. "I swear, you look more amazing every time I see you."

The two weren’t strangers to having sex by far. Granted, they didn’t do it too often, most of the time settling for making out in the bathroom during lunch break whenever Vaughn would leave the kitchen to work out front with Noah, or taking it up to Victor’s room after work to have somewhere more comfortable and private to carry on with more tasteful activities.

Torrey was always gentle with him; asking if he felt alright, if he needed a short break to catch his breath, if he wanted water, where he wanted him to touch. It was sweet, and always brought a smile to Lucille’s face knowing that Victor cared about him.

After a lovely near half an hour of bliss, the two laid back against the pillows, mostly out of breath and laughing to themselves.

Lucille's chest rose and fell in quick patterns, and he curled up in Torrey's bare chest, his breath coating the blond’s fair skin with a layer of condensation, and he shuddered. "H-ha... w-whoa." He felt Victor's fingers travel down his back to hold him close, and he gazed up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "That... was amazing. I mean, I'd thought about it on the way here, but that? That was better than anything I could have imagined."

"You've thought about it?" Victor raised a brow, surprised. "An innocent baby like you?"

"Oh, shut up!" Lucille gave Victor's cheek a light, harmless smack and buried his head in the crook of his neck. "You're acting like you didn't either."

Victor chuckled. "Oh, I did. I won't deny that, babe." He held Lucille closer against him, sighing contently at the feeling of his boyfriend's bare skin pressed to his own. "Mm..." The teen kissed Lucille's collarbone, dragging his lips along his skin. "I love you."

"Aww, sweetheart..." Lucille moved to roll Victor below him, hesitating when Victor's phone began to chime. Torrey gave him an apologetic look, holding onto his hips. "Don't worry, you can take it, I won't shoot." He massaged his thumbs into the grooves of his lover's waist, resting on top of his chest with a chuckle. "The quicker you answer, the faster we can continue, babe. I’ve got a bubble bath with our names on it!”

Torrey tangled his legs with Lucille's, grinning up at him before answering the phone. "Hey Dad! Is there something I can..." The smile dropped from his face. "Now? But we're—" He paused, sitting up against the car door, earning a curious look from Lucille, who smoothed his fingers through his hair and mouthed out a 'What's wrong,' before Victor shook his head. "Yeah, I'll be there. Just let me get my stuff together."

"Hon, what's wrong?"

A sigh slipped past Victor's lips. "My dads need me for something at home, so we have to cut this a little short, honey-bun. Raincheck for another night?"

Lucille’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded, averting his gaze, disappointed that their night had to be cut short. "Of course. It’s family business—it's okay.” He stood up from the bed, making his way towards the bathroom to shower off the sweat from his skin. “In that case, I’m going to get un-sweaty.”

Torrey’s chest ached, and he moved towards the bathroom door, tapping his knuckles against it. “Hey... I’ll try to come back if I can, okay?”

The brunet reluctantly gave another nod. “You don’t have to, Vic, it’s fine... no offense, but the last time you had to leave for a family business outing, it took hours. I’ll be asleep by then.”

“I-I can come make you breakfast?” Torrey insisted, frowning when Lucille didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Lucy, it’s just—my dads need me for something really important right now.”

In minutes, Lucille heard his bedroom door close. _Family business,_ Lucille thought.

During their time dating, Torrey had only been called out for ‘family business’ three times. He didn’t know what business they had on his birthday, but it hurt that Victor had to leave, regardless. He’d asked him once what he had been doing, but never got an answer aside from Torrey saying that there was an emergency meeting with one of their suppliers that he had to be a part of as a co-owner. It left Lucille wondering what sort of bakery or coffee supplier would be available at the late hours of the night.

He stepped into the bath, giving himself a quick rinse with warm water from the shower and turning on the tub faucet, letting it run for a few minutes before adding in the bubbles. While he waited for them to fill the tub, he made his way back into his room, pulling out a pair of comfortable pajamas to slip into afterward.

Like any usual night, he placed his work bag beside his bed, reaching down into it to pull out the exact change he’d need for the morning’s bus fare. However, his wallet was nowhere to be found.

“Shit—seriously?” He dug further through it, pulling out each and every article of his duffel bag until he was certain that it wasn’t in there. Lucille thought back to where he’d last seen it, then heaved a sigh of relief.

He must have left it on the counter at work when he’d bought the coffee during his lunch break!

With a small groan, he returned to the bathroom, using a towel to dry himself, and turned off the faucet, deciding his bubble bath could wait. He needed to run back by work and grab his wallet; he’d feel bad asking Edgar to spot him some money to he able to ride the bus, or ask him to drive him to work—Edgar already had to spend enough money on gas. Victor was an option, but Lucille didn’t want to ask him for favors.

He tugged on a hastily thrown together pair of clothes to wear, grabbed his set of keys for the café and started for the door.

But as he was running down the sidewalk, his legs aching from the mere thought of the distance he’d have to travel to the café and back, a strange feeling of oncoming dread filled his chest. He slowed his pace, hugging his arms around his waist and shuddering. Something in his subconscious was nagging at him.

 _Go back home,_ it was telling him. _Forget the wallet, just ask Edgar for a few dollars; he won’t mind._

Lucille pushed the thoughts aside. No, he thought. It was just a quick trip in and out once he found his wallet.

Before he knew it, he stood in front of the door to the café. He couldn’t see any lights on in the café, nor the windows above, so he assumed that maybe they had gone out to meet their supplier for this family business call as well.

Lucille eased his key into the lock, giving it a twist and pushing open the door, ducking inside and shutting it behind him. “Vic?" He called out, just to be sure he was alone. When no one answered, he dropped his set of keys down on the counter, searching the shelves for his wallet. "I hope they don't mind that I'm in here..." He began to hum, gasping when he felt soft leather beneath his fingers. "Ah, there! Found—" The teen's face fell when his hand closed around a leather sheath, and he held it up to find it held a steel blade. However, something wet touched his hand, and he frowned, drawing it back to find his palm red with blood. " _Agh_!"

The blade clattered against the floor, and Lucille scrambled back, when he heard a shrill shriek from the door to the basement. He glanced towards it, finding no light under the door. "Vic?!" He grabbed the knife, rushing towards the door and throwing it open. However, when he gazed down at the basement floor in panic, he found nothing.

Lucille frantically glanced about, when he saw a portion of the wall moved aside into another room. He drew in a gasp, finding the continuation of the blood trail from earlier leading into the room. The teen steeled his nerves, poking his head into the room to see Victor bent over, looking pale. "Torrey!"

Torrey's head snapped upwards, revealing his bright, glowing eyes and an additional, unfamiliar pair of razor sharp fangs. "H-honey!"

Lucille scrambled towards him, not noticing Victor’s new peculiarity that sat in plain view, holding Torrey close to him. "Vic, I came back for my wallet—I heard a scream, I—" He cut himself off at the sight of blood coating Torrey's lips and flinched away, glancing about the room to find Noah and Vaughn holding a dead, bleeding body in their arms, staring over at him in horror. "Oh _god_!"

"No, no, no!" Victor hugged Lucille back against his chest, shushing him when Lucille stiffened at the touch of his clawed nails against his cheek. "Honey, don't be scared... you're okay! Sh..." He held his boyfriend's head against his chest. "This is all just—we can talk about this! I can explain, I can explain; I _swear_."

"Let me go! L-let me go, you monster!" Lucille cried out, but a desperate, bloodied kiss was pressed against his cheek, and he wrenched his head away. "Victor, let me go!"

Vaughn rushed towards Lucille, drawing him aside and holding his arms behind his back. "Luci, I know you must be absolutely terrified right now." He plucked away Lucille's phone, keys, and the blade clutched in his hand. "But let's—l-let's be calm about this, shall we?” The man released him, then cleared his throat, receiving a nod from Noah in return.

Noah disappeared in an instant, and Lucille heard the front door lock. "N-no," Lucille begged. "Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!"

"Babe, nobody's gonna hurt you," Torrey swore, moving towards his lover, stopping when Vaughn shook his head. "It's all going to be okay. Just look at me, honey.” Tears welled up in his eyes, and he bit his lip. "I love you; don't you trust me? Dad, tell him we love him; tell him we won't hurt him."

Lucille swiveled to face Vaughn, crying out at his ashen skin. The man before him had deep, inky black eyes much darker than his former grey, his lips dripping with fresh blood from his rows of razor sharp fangs. Long, blackened claws sat in place of his fingernails, and Vaughn darted out a tongue to clean his mouth of blood, swabbing at his face with a spare cloth to make himself look more presentable.

"Lucille—"

"Stay the fuck back!" Lucille backed into the corner, shuddering, his breathing growing heavy—rapid. "M-monsters—you're all monsters!" He hugged his knees close to his chest, burying his head behind them and squeezing his eyes shut. "Please don't kill me!"

"Sh..." Vaughn eased, then looked to Victor. "Torrey, use his phone to tell Edgar he's sleeping over," he whispered, reaching out a hand to comfort his nervous son, who stared out at Lucille with a pained expression on his face. "We'll lock the house down and let him roam free. We don't want to frighten him any more than we do by keeping him locked in a room. Don't let him near the doors." The man gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Help Noah fix up the guest bedroom.”

Victor nodded, reluctantly rising to his feet and making his way back up the stairs, leaving Lucille alone with Vaughn.

Vaughn gazed back towards Lucille, and the brunet glanced towards him, flinching. He hesitated, then drew in a deep breath, his skin regaining its peachy pallor. "F-forgive us, Lucille... it... can be scary when we get hungry."

Lucille backed into the corner, biting down hard on his lip. "P-please don't hurt me! I'm _begging_ you—if you—if you just let me go, I won't tell anyone, I swear! I-I won't—ah!" He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a yelp as Vaughn drew close to him, tears streaming down his cheeks. Sobs slipped from his lips, and he felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest.

"Lucille," Vaughn eased, holding him close. "I-I know what it looks like. I do, dear, but... we'd never harm you, love." He hesitated when Lucille's breathing turned into sparse, sobbing whimpers as the teen trembled fiercely in his arms. "Please understand—this is a wrench thrown into our plans, Luci. I’m sorry you found us in such unfortunate circumstances.”

“St-stay away from me,” Lucille begged. “Please.”

Vaughn eased his arms from around Lucille’s chest, kneeling down a short ways away. “As you heard, I'll... have my darling fix up the guest bedroom for you to sleep in until... you come around." He gave him a look of pity, biting down on his lip. “We have to keep you here until we’re certain you won’t report anything to the authorities, considering what you’ve seen. Doing so would prove to be most harmful to us... and to you.”

The teen’s eyes widened in terror, and he shook his head wildly. “N-no! No, please! P-please, I’m sorry!”

“In the meantime,” Vaughn continued, standing up and moving towards a drawer. He drew out a bottle and a cloth, leaving Lucille to watch as he dabbed a few drops from said bottle onto the cloth before beginning to approach him. “I think it would be best for you to get some rest.”

Lucille stood up to run for the stairs, but Vaughn grabbed hold of his arm and with a seemingly effortless ease, drew him back. “M-Mister Bathory—”

“It’s okay,” Vaughn insisted. “You’ll be fine. You’re going to wake up in a nice, warm bed, safe and sound. Then we’ll explain everything to you over dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Please,” Lucille croaked, his voice growing hoarse. “D-don’t do this!” He gazed up at Vaughn to plead with him once more, but the man gently eased the cloth against his face.

In an instant, the world around him grew blurred, and he was watching helplessly as a pool of black enveloped his vision in one swift moment, leaving him in the clutches of sleep.


	4. Blood in the Water

Lucille's eyes peeled open, and the teen let out a groan as his head began to pound with pain. His vision was a blur, but he could make out the vague shape of the room, recognizing it to be the guest bedroom he'd used to stay in before he and Torrey were dating. He furrowed his brows, glancing down at himself to find that he was curled up in his boyfriend's bed beneath the covers. A frown donned his face, and he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, biting his lip.

He hadn't remembered falling asleep, nor had he remembered going up to the bedroom.

The brunet crawled out of bed, his limbs heavy, nearly tripping over his own feet on his way to the door before deciding to hug onto the wall to steady himself. However, the door creaked open, revealing Vaughn standing in the doorway, his face filled with concern. "O-oh, hey Mister Bathory. Do you know what time it is? I can't... I can't see the clock without my glasses, and I'm not too sure when I got up here."

"I just came to check on you, dear," Vaughn tousled Lucille's hair, nearly knocking him over with how much the teen teetered and swayed on his feet. "You've been out for the past few—few hours, Luce. It's really early in the morning. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah—yeah, I'm a little tired. Everything's all... fuzzy—ah!" Lucille stumbled to the floor as a wave of dizziness overcame him, quickly attended by Vaughn, who bent down by his side to help him up. "Shit... god, that hurt. I think something's wrong with my..." the brunet paused, his breath hitching at the sight of a speck of blood on Vaughn's wrist. His eyes widened, the memories from the previous night flooding through his vision, and he recoiled, beginning to tremble. "You—y-you stay back! Stay away from me!"

Vaughn's expression softened, and he stood from the floor, blocking off Lucille's escape route to the bedroom door behind him. "Lucille, I'm not going to hurt you," he swore. "None of us would ever do something like that to you."

"Y-you had fangs! And—and claws, and glowing eyes, a-and—and you were eating someone that—that you f-fucking _murdered_!"

A sigh slipped from Vaughn, and he gave Lucille a look of disappointment. " _Language_ , Luci." He scolded, folding his arms over his chest. "Humans... aren't supposed to know that we exist," Vaughn massaged his temple with a hand, and he shook his head. "You were bound to find out eventually, since Victor chose you to be his, but none of us expected it would happen this soon." The man leaned up against the door, shutting it with his back. "Essentially, we're... er... I'm not sure you'll believe me, but we're a family of vampires. Rest assured, if you were anyone other than yourself, Lucille, we would have killed you by now, but we haven't, so please have just a smidge of faith in us."

Lucille's mind reeled, and he began to grow lightheaded. "Please," he begged. "Just let me go—let me leave. I want to go home—I won't tell anyone, I _swear_! You have to believe me, Vaughn, please."

"I can't do that." Vaughn motioned to the framed photograph of Lucille and Victor posing in uniform that sat on the bedside table. "Torrey chose you to be with him, and we can't just have you running amok yelling that the local bakery is eating their customers. It's not too good for business these days."

"Chose?" The teen shifted his attention towards the photo. "What do you mean, he chose me?!"

Vaughn tilted his head at the fear-stricken boy before him. "That's not for me to explain to you. But, this is your home for now, Lucille. I'm saying this in the most pleasant way I possibly can; we can't let you leave after what you saw."

The brunet drew his knees close to his chest, his breath shuddering as he began to tremble. "Please, I didn't mean to see it!" He cried. "I left my wallet, and—and I only went to the basement door because I thought I heard Torrey down there!"

A remorseful expression painted itself across Vaughn's face, and he offered Lucille a thin, sympathetic smile. "I know you didn't mean to, Luci. And I wish I could let you go, and that you would keep coming back to work, and have dinner with us, and stay the night with Victor like normal, but it can't be that way." He bit his lip. "Trust me, I wanted Noah to talk to you, not me. We really, really like you, Lucille, and I know it's going to be hard for you to adjust knowing that we kill for our food, but you'll learn to understand eventually, I promise."

Lucille rushed over towards the window, but was swiftly tugged back by Vaughn, who tutted at him. "Please! Th-this doesn't make any sense! I'm not going to live here with any of you—you're _monsters_! You're all sick, twisted monsters! I'm never going to adjust to anything; I'll never understand! I want to go home!"

"Luci," Vaughn eased, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't want to understand right now, but—"

"Don't touch me!"

Vaughn grasped Lucille's wrist in his own, giving it a tight squeeze until the teen began to whimper in pain and quiet his pleas of desperation. "I don't want to have to hurt you to make you cooperate. I said that we wouldn't hurt you. It wouldn't do you any good to fight, so please, don't make me," he said in the softest tone he could muster. "I'm going to take you downstairs to the living room, and we're going to get you something to eat. I expect you to sit quietly on the couch while I fix up a sandwich for you. Do you understand me?"

The brunet gave a slow, hesitant nod at how passively harsh Vaughn's tone was.

How could the man that he had known to be so gentle, and kind—a second father to him be such a monster?

"I-I wouldn't tell anyone, Mister Sinclair," he whispered, his voice shaking nearly as badly as the rest of his body. "I swear, I wouldn't. I-I'd come back to work. Victor knows where I live—he'd make sure that I—"

"Please, Lucille. You can't change my mind. Dropping the subject would be much more beneficial to you than trying to bargain with me, love." Vaughn reached out to ruffle Lucille's hair, but the teen flinched away from his hand and hung his head. "Come, let's go." He led Lucille down to the living room, which held walls lined with glossy planks of a dark oak wood that flashed brilliantly as the window drapes fluttered.

A long coffee table matching the wall sat in the center of the room, holding a single abandoned mug that emitted the scent of stale coffee, and at the wider end of the table sat a couch, and two old, well-worn armchairs on opposite sides. At the front wall, the living room held an entertainment center with two tall, lengthy bookshelves on either side. There was a large, yet modest television, but no phones that Lucille could see, so he had no visible way of calling for help.

"Victor should be home in an hour or so. He and Noah are out buying some new ingredients for the shop, and food for dinner, so you're stuck with me, for now. That's not so bad, is it?" Vaughn chuckled, thinking of how he and Lucille often enjoyed joking and poking fun at each other, then hesitated. "Ah... well, I... guess it might be bad now." He seated Lucille on the couch, watching him closely as he made his way towards the kitchen. However, the teen only shifted about on the cushions a few times before taking one of the blankets and cocooning himself inside of it for comfort. "I... really am sorry, Lucille. Please, just... know that we really do care about you. Nothing's changed; you've just learned something new about us that you don't enjoy."

If he weren't already internally panicking, Lucille would have been astounded at the sheer amount of understatements that were coming from Vaughn. _How in the hell could a sane being possibly get used to murder,_ he wondered. He nestled himself into the corner, soft, broken sobs slipping out past his lips.

He wanted Edgar—where did Edgar think he was? He knew he didn't work today, why wasn't he coming to get him? Calling for help?!

A familiar gentle, tender hum began from the kitchen, and Lucille dared to glance over his shoulder to see Vaughn spreading strawberry jam over a slice of bread. Flashes of blood coating the polished wood of the basement floor revived themself in his mind, and he clutched his head in his palms with a whimper, receiving a concerned, yet wary look from the man at the counter in return.

"C-could—" Lucille choked back a sob, avoiding Vaughn's piercing black eyes. "Could I h-have a different sandwich?"

Vaughn paused, glancing down to the slice of bread before returning his gaze to Lucille, offering him a warm smile. "Of course you may, dear."

Lucille massaged at his wrist, wincing as he pressed at the red, swollen skin. The vice grip that had held his wrist was terrifying, and he wondered for a moment how far Vaughn would have gone if he'd kept struggling. The man said that he didn't want to have to hurt him, but with what he had seen... he had his doubts.

His eyes began to drift, still slightly dazed, snapping open wide when they reached the wall of family photos that he'd always seen behind the sofa. Most of them were the same, but there were new photos—fully framed and lined up with the others, scattered about the wall of him. Some he recognized from his phone, others held pictures of him and Victor that he hadn't even known were taken, let alone that anyone had been around to take them.

Photographs of him and Victor taking walks through the local park, at the drive-in theatre, even some of them at the beach. He saw himself in pictures with Noah, Vaughn—some with all four of them. All arranged beneath the ornate carved wood sign that read 'Our Family' hung from a silver hook.

"Noah's doing," Vaughn explained, having seen the shocked reaction. "He was so happy when our baby finally found someone he wanted to share his life with that he went out to capture some happy moments for the future." He gave an amused chuckle, shaking his head and returning his attention to the task at hand, in the midst of placing a slice of turkey atop fresh lettuce and mayo. "It wasn't my idea in the slightest, but I couldn't say no to that look of pride in his eyes when he talks about you two together." The vampire eased the sandwich together, placing it at the dining table. "We'll be the perfect happy family, Luci. All it takes is some cooperation and open mindedness." Vaughn beckoned him over and gave the plate a tap. "Come eat, love."

The teen's cheeks were streaked with tears, and he met Vaughn's eyes, pleading. "V-Vaughn, I want to go home—"

" _Enough_!" Vaughn snapped, causing Lucille to recoil and shudder. Suddenly, the door to the kitchen opened, revealing Noah dressed in a pair of pants and a dark, hooded jacket looking concerned. Vaughn let out a slow, steady sigh. "That's enough, Lucille. _Enough_. If you ask me again, there will be consequences."

"Now, now, dear." Noah gently smoothed his hand through Vaughn's hair, pecking his cheek. "You go and take over for me with bringing in the groceries. Lucille's a bit shaken up, my love, you can't be so harsh. That's no way to treat your future son, now is it?"

Vaughn paused, then relented, nodding his head and making his way towards the door. "Watch him, Noah."

"Of course."

Lucille whimpered, giving Noah a pleading look as the door shut behind Vaughn. "What's going on? Wh-why am I here?" He stood from the couch, rushing towards him, then stumbled forward, but caught himself and backed a few paces away. "What do you mean by future son? Y-you have to let me go! Please, I want to go home!"

Noah heaved a sigh and took a seat at the table, then folded his hands in his lap, as if considering something serious. "Luci, you walked in on something that you can't take back. We were going to wait until we were sure you were the one for Torrey to tell you." He invited him to sit down, waiting until Lucille seated himself in front of the sandwich that had been made for him. "I understand you're scared—terrified, even. But dear, we're not human. We have to survive off of things other than water and three meals a day. We need blood; it's in our nature." The man gave him a knowing look. "And we can't trust you after what you saw. This didn't go how it was supposed to. All we're asking is for you to behave, and we won't have to resort to doing something that would be harmful to you."

"F-for how long?" Lucille whispered. "How long will you keep me here? What about my college classes—what about Edgar?!"

"Luci," Noah warned. "If you would like to be let out, it all depends on your behavior. We wish it didn't have to be this way, but... you must at least understand where our worries stem from?"

Lucille moved his head in a reluctant nod. He knew what they were worried about, and he hated it. And what he hated more was that they were wrong.

Lucille wasn't inherently selfish, but he was a coward. Even if he wanted to tell someone, he would be far too scared to. If there were any opportunity for him to get out of something, he'd do it.

He glanced up to Noah with a sniff, biting down into his lip. "Mister Callahan, please... you know me. I would—I would never tell, I _swear_."

"Please," Noah whispered. "Drop the subject, Luci. It will get you nowhere."

Vaughn returned to the kitchen with groceries, setting them down on the table and standing behind Noah, easing his hands onto his shoulders and giving them a fond rub. "Victor will be here in a moment, my love." He said, tipping his chin upwards to kiss him on the lips. "Tell Lucille, precious. Tell him how much we love it here—how it's safe, and how you and Torrey are loved."

The younger man flicked a glance at Lucille and offered him an earnest smile. "It's a perfect, happy family once you get past our nature. Luci, Vaughn and I getting married and adopting Torrey was the best thing that's ever happened to us, and soon you'll think of us as family too." He leaned back against Haidyn's arm, and the front door clicked open. "Ah, Victor! His condition is just fine, but I think the chloroform was too much for him. He's a bit wobbly."

"Oh, you're the best!" Victor giggled, striding into the room, frowning slightly as he noticed Lucille refusing to meet his eyes. "Can I be alone with Luci for a while, Dads? I think he needs a little convincing."

"Absolutely! We'll leave you two lovebirds to sort things out, Torrey." Noah linked arms with Vaughn, smiling up at him as he lead him upstairs, shutting their bedroom door behind them.

Victor gazed down at Lucille, bending down so he stared into his eyes, which quickly flitted away. "Hey honey-bun, sleep well?" He asked, to which he received no answer, only a fearful whimper. The teen laughed, amused, and waved a hand in front of his face. "You loved getting my attention last night when we went out, and now you're getting all cold on me?" He let out a playful huff, then grinned at him. "Cheer up! You're with a family that loves you; doesn't that make you at least a little happy?"

"This is a nightmare," Lucille told himself, shaking his head. "This—this is just a nightmare!" He allowed himself to laugh and held his hand in a palm. "I'm just having a bad dream."

A chuckle slipped from Victor, and he cupped Lucille's cheeks. "No, it's a dream come true! A bit... sooner than I'd hoped, but baby you're okay." He pulled the brunet close to him and nestled close, letting his scent sink in. It was a sweet, subtle mix of fresh rain and coffee. "You're perfect!"

"No—I need to go home! This—this isn't my home! It won't ever be my home, Victor! It's a prison!"

Victor's lips formed into a pout, and he gently stroked Lucille's cheek. "Don't say that, angel. You're going to love it here!" He insisted, feeling joy bubble up inside of him as Lucille met his eyes. "There we are! Now, give me a little smile!"

Lucille turned away, hanging his head, only for Victor to press their lips together. The smaller teen struggled against him, his attempts soon proving to be fruitless when Victor only pinned him back, greatly overpowering the brunet. "Let's get you eating, okay? You must be starving sitting in front of a sandwich like that."

A feral growl rumbled in Lucille's stomach, betraying the refusal he was about to utter. Before he had a chance to speak, Victor was pushing the plate further towards him.

"Here!" Victor sat himself down at the table and hummed, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Just take a few bites of your sandwich, alright? Only some of the peanut butter and jelly jars are left for sandwiches in the fridge, so you'll have to stick with those if you're hungry for another sandwich, hon."

"I don't want anything from you!"

"Don't be like that, Luce, please. I heard your stomach growl. You need to eat, okay sweetheart?"

Lucille pushed the plate away with his free hand. "I told you I didn't want it!" He reminded him harshly, receiving a pleading look in return. "I don't want to—" Lucille cut himself off as a hand was raised against him and braced himself, flinching when gentle fingers ran through his hair.

"I don't think I like that attitude, hon," Victor murmured, holding the sandwich to the brunet's lips and narrowing his eyes. "You're going to eat, and you're going to eat right now, okay? Dads might get testy. You wouldn't want that, would you? For them to punish you?"

Lucille didn't know exactly what Victor's view on punishment was, but by the attitudes of Vaughn and Noah, he guessed it wasn't something to be taken too lightly. He took a corner of the sandwich between his teeth and bit down, taking it into his mouth and giving it a hesitant chew, not entirely sure whether or not Victor could be trusted. He seemed to genuinely care for him, but the chloroform Vaughn had used against him made him question the values of the entire household.

Victor beamed proudly at Lucille as he finished off his lunch. "Good job!" He praised, dropping a kiss on his cheek before leading him over to the counter. "Now, you're going to help me prep for lunch that we'll all eat later. You'll need to know this for when we go out. We've been eating late for these past few nights with how much time we spend working in the café after hours, but since you're here, and we can't let you into work, I'll put you in charge of cooking, okay? I'll even write down some instructions for you when I'm not here."

The taller teen took a blank note stuck to the fridge and began to scribble out the basic instructions for how to make beef stew. "For now, I'll leave you to chop up all the vegetables." He pulled open the fridge and took out a container filled with raw, bloodied meat from one of the drawers, then various vegetables, such as potatoes, an onion, and garlic and placed them on the countertop. "That should just about do it for now. The cutting boards are in the cabinet just above you there. I want you to grab it and start cutting up this onion with one of the knives on the block, do you understand?"

Lucille remained wordless and folded his arms over his chest in defiant refusal. However, Victor only sighed and plucked the wooden cutting board from its respective cabinet, then sat it down in front of Lucille and pressed a small knife into his hands. "Go on, cut them up. Please do as I say." Torrey whispered, giving the brunet a pat when he slowly began to sink the knife into the half of an onion he'd been given. "There. We just want the little bits and pieces, so no long ones, alright?"

Victor averted his attention to the meat, pulled out his own cutting board and a chef's knife, and got to work on the large lump. Blood soaked into the wood of the board as he ran the blade through the tough muscle, and he occasionally flicked short gazes over at Lucille to make sure that the knife wasn't anywhere it shouldn't have been.

Not that it would have mattered anyways. He was much stronger than him.

Victor drew a frying pan from another cabinet and placed it on the stovetop, then cranked up the heat and buttered it before placing cut up strips of meat inside.

The smaller teen glanced upwards from the wide selection of vegetables he'd chopped up into small bits and pieces, casting a nervous look over at the sizzling meat now being seared in the large black pan on the stovetop. His eyes flicked to Victor, who gazed back at him, waiting for him to speak. "Erm... what's that?" The smaller teen asked, pointing a shaking finger to the contents of the pan and getting his hair mussed up in return, causing him to flinch.

"It's just beef, Luci." Victor chuckled, grinning down at him. "Here," he slid a knife from the block on the counter beside him and cut off a small bit of the simmering flesh before stabbing into it and holding it to Lucille's lips. "I seasoned it myself just last night. You'll try some, won't you, Luci?" He asked, eyeing his lover expectantly, the corners of his mouth tipping downwards in a frown as he hesitated. "Won't you, honey-bun?"

A feeble whimper slipped from Lucille, and he warily pushed at the blade with his finger so that it angled away from his face. For some odd, unexplainable reason that tugged at the corner of his mind... he didn't think it was beef.

"It's just... I've—I've never had it cooked that way before. I'm not sure how it would—" he cut himself off as Victor repositioned the knife and shrank back against the counter. "Vic-Victor, please—can... can I at least eat it off of a fork?"

Victor tittered, his face lighting up as all of his darker intentions seemed to fade from his being entirely, disappearing without a trace. "Well, why didn't you just say so, angel?" He rummaged about in the silverware drawer for a cluster of small, silver forks, then slid the cube of beef onto it and held it out to Lucille with a loving smile. "Open up!"

Lucille parted his lips, and Victor slipped the fork into his mouth, pulling it out once he was sure Lucille had taken a bite. Lucille gave the tough, leathery meat a thoughtful chew and swallowed, wincing slightly as the juices stung his dry throat. "W-water," he coughed, making a grab for one of the few glass cups on the island and taking a gulp from one that he'd assumed was Victor's, given the many faded bunny stickers plastered onto it. A gentle hand brushed over his shoulder, and he shook his head. "I'm—I'm okay."

"You sure?" Victor asked softly, wrapping his arms around the smaller teen's waist and lacing their fingers together. "C'mere, babe. Let me see." He turned Lucille towards him and examined his face, tipping open his mouth and running a thumb over his lips, softening his touches as Lucille flinched and whimpered pathetically. "Sh... stay still for me."

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence as Victor probed at Lucille's sensitive lips, and the brunet pulled back with a sigh. "Let me get you some chapstick. I'll be right back. Stay here and keep an eye on the food." He murmured, running a hand through his hair and heading up the stairs to his bedroom.

What he found when he returned, however, was Lucille desperately stabbing at the lock on the front door, trying to escape. Victor silently strode up behind the teen, mildly surprised when Lucille whipped around to face him before he could make a grab for the knife. "Luci," he began slowly, taking a cautious step forward, "Lucy, give me the knife."

"N-no!" Lucille shook his head wildly, his messy golden hair whipping his cheeks. "No—I won't!" His breath came in shuddering gasps, and he could feel his heart pounding hard in his heaving chest as he clutched the knife tighter in his small, pale palms. "I-I want out of this hellhole!" He cried. "I want you to let me go! Or—or else!"

Victor chuckled softly, slightly amused, and he held his hands in the air in mock surrender. "Or else what, angel?"

"Or else—or else I'll... I'll..." Lucille gripped the blade tighter and poised the tip at his chest, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "I'll kill myself so that a monster like you can't have me!"

It was a bluff, of course—Lucille was too scared to die, he just needed to make Victor believe him.

The latter's eyes grew wide, and he darted his hand forward for the knife, only for Lucille to dodge him and sprint towards the bathroom. Lucille bolted for the door, and once inside, swiveled around on his heel to slam the door shut and lock it, only for it to smash into Victor's foot, causing him to let out a cry of rage.

"Lucille, open this door right now! Please, honey-bun, don't hurt yourself! We—w-we can talk about this!”

Lucille's head whipped in every which way as he tries to find someplace he could escape, gasping when his gaze fell on the short windows at the top of the wall that would let shower steam into the outside air instead of clouding up the bathroom. He stepped up onto the toilet, and attempted to open it, only to find it locked by a latch.

From his panic sprung an idea, and Lucille covered his eyes, stabbing the window with his knife. The glass shattered, tiny slivers and shards sprinkling onto the floor, and Lucille placed his hands on the dirt outside, heaving himself up. Glass dug into his skin as he forced his upper body out, and a sickening squish came from beneath him, accompanied by a searing, pulsing pain.

A shrill, blood curdling scream was wrenched from Lucille's throat, and he fell back onto the glass covered floor, blood gushing from his side. Victor threw open the door and pinned him down, immediately grabbing for towels and a needle and thread. "Luci, _no_!" He pressed fresh, cold towels to the wound in Lucille's side, thankful that he'd missed nicking anywhere vital. Tears dripped down his cheeks, and he gave the brunet a scared, worried look. "Luci, look what you've done! Y-you're _hurt_!"

Lucille sobbed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his hands into fists, his blood beginning to soak into the stained towels. "S-s-stop!" He begged, tossing a fist blindly into the air before letting his arm collapse onto his chest. If he'd even gotten close to striking Victor, the killer didn't vocalize his response. "Don't touch me!" The pitch of his voice rose as a needle prodded at his wound, and he could feel his consciousness begin to slip. "Don't—don't touch... touch me..."

" _Luci_!"


	5. Family Dinner

Lucille's eyelids peeled open, and his body felt heavy, his limbs tensed and stiff. A dull, throbbing pain pinched at his ribcage, and he grimaced, then tried to sit up, when a hand thrust him back onto the sofa, causing spikes of hot pain to spike up in the brunet's chest. He cried out in agony, blinking back tears, and he curled himself into a tight ball, not wanting to come face to face with Victor. However, to his surprise, it was Noah who he saw standing above him, looking awfully worried.

"Oh—I'm sorry!" The man reached a hand out to ruffle his hair, then thought better of it and set it at his side, taking a seat in one of the nearby living room chairs and biting his lip. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but it's best if you stay like that for now. It would have been bad for you to sit up. You... were stabbed by glass." He shifted about uncomfortably, a look of sympathy in his eyes. "Luci... nobody was going to hurt you, so why?"

The teen on the couch remained wordless, only hid himself beneath the soft, silky blanket covering his small frame, a false sense of safety enveloping his body.

Noah pulled his chair closer and heaved a sigh. "The boys are going to be away for another half hour, or so. I was invited, but I thought it was best if there was someone to watch you. Vaughn had to take Victor out; the poor boy was worried sick," he said, waiting patiently for a few moments to see if his talking would provoke any sort of response.

Lucille hesitantly peeked out from beneath the blanket, gazing out at Noah with a wary look in his eyes. Noah offered him a friendly smile and chuckled.

"If you'll let me change out your bandages, we could do something fun, if you want? How does that sound?"

Lucille hesitated, then nodded, allowing himself to be carried into the bathroom, the floor sticky and smelling strongly of bleach. "D-did this happen to you?" He asked quietly, noticing as Noah flinched at his question. "You're not going to answer me, are you?"

Noah pressed his lips into a thin line as he slowly cut through the bandages with a small pair of scissors, then seemed to hesitate at the sight of the wound before shaking his head and pulling out a fresh roll, snapping himself out of a daze. "When I turned, after I adopted Torrey, I found Vaughn. I owe a lot to him and Torrey. They're my family, and I love them with everything I have. You're family too now." He stopped for a moment, then met Lucille's eyes. "No, he didn't keep me inside of a house, Luci."

The teen shook his head. "I'm _not_ family, Mister Callahan," he murmured, averting his gaze to the hastily stitched up wound at his side. A hand patted his head, and Lucille laughed weakly. "This? All of this is sick."

A sigh, and Noah helped a reluctant Lucille into an upright position, then began to wrap fresh bandages around the brunet’s bare chest. "I don't expect you to understand." He grinned wryly and ran a hand through his hair, weaving the end of the bandage strip through the other layers and giving them a soft pat. "Now," Noah began, "I would appreciate it, Lucille, if you would let us explain ourselves to you before jumping out another window." The vampire glanced upward to meet his eyes. "You didn't give us any time to chat over a nice dinner yesterday, after you passed out from the shock and blood loss."

"A-are you trying to rationalize all of this?" Lucille struggled to his feet, gripping the edge of the sink to steady himself, when Noah slung an arm around him for support.

"Let's get something in that stomach of yours, shall we? Then we can find something entertaining for us to do. How about that?" Noah asked, chuckling as the teen paused for a moment before relenting and nodding his head. "Torrey's a good kid, I swear to you. He loves you very much." He helped Lucille out into the kitchen and sat him down at the dining table before retreating to the fridge and pulling out milk. "I don't think I've ever asked, but do you have any allergies?"

Lucille shook his head, tracing patterns along the wood, and within a few moments, a cold bowl of cereal was placed before him. He took a spoon into his fingers and stirred the sugary cornflakes about in the bowl before taking a bite, feeling the frigid milk slide into his empty stomach. "Thanks." The teen coughed a little at the sensation, then took another bite, and it wasn't long until the whole bowl had been finished off.

Noah took a seat beside Lucille and pushed a board game onto the table with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "Torrey used to love these things, so I thought you might want to play. It's really all I can do for you at the moment. I'd take you to the lake to get some fresh air, but it's best if you stay put for now. Your wound," he paused to motion to the bandages, "should be healed up enough to start walking around for more than a few minutes at a time in a couple more days—maybe even the end of the week, but if you let us help you, it can be healed and lightly scarred over by the evening."

"Help? What do you mean?" The blond curiously lifted the cardboard lid from the box to find a folded up, rainbow looking game with a few dice scattered around inside and a stack of time worn cards standing neatly inside of a blue rubber band.

However, before the two could even begin to go over the basic rules, the rumbling engine of a truck drew near, and Lucille couldn't help but stiffen. He could already feel Victor's stare piercing him, and the drapes on the windows had been drawn shut tight.

Noah glanced towards the door, then rose from his chair and placed Lucille's empty bowl in the sink before making his way over to the lock and slipping a charm from the silver, cuff-like wrist clasp on his arm into the lock. It clicked, and he pushed it open, biting down on his lip as he gazed outside.

"What?" Lucille asked, his voice faltering as fear bubbled up inside of him. "W-what is it?"

Noah hesitated, flicking a glance back at Lucille before shifting it back out the door. "Keep quiet, do you understand me, love?" He asked, his tone unusually stern. When he received a nod, he returned it, then opened the door wide. "You're safe here. Remember that. We'll explain everything to you over dinner, as we promised."

Muffled cries and screams came from outside, and a bloodied Victor along with a distressed looking Vaughn barged into the room dragging a younger woman behind them, thrashing and screaming. She met Lucille's stare and gave him a pleading look, of which the teen didn't register through his unbridled shock.

A scream ripped through the house, and Lucille wasn't sure if it was his, or a loud ringing in his ears, but when Victor dropped one of the woman's legs and rushed to his side, he assumed it had been his own.

"Sh... honey, it's okay," Victor insisted in a soft tone, running his fingers through the brunet's chestnut hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He drew Lucille into his arms and held a palm over his lips, rocking him to and fro to quiet his screams of terror. "Sh... it's going to be okay. I'm here, baby. You're fine, I'll protect you."

Lucille curled into Victor's embrace and whimpered, sniveling pathetically and letting out weak, wet sobs into his shirt, his body shuddering with tremors. _Let me go,_ he wanted to say, but couldn't find it in himself to form the words, only pressed closer, desperate to cling to something for a sense of what was and wasn't real.

"Vic—" a hiccup interrupted his attempt to speak, and after a few more tries of choking out words, he finally resigned himself to crying.

Victor whispered gentle, soothing assurances at the smaller teen and pulled back to meet his eyes, a bit surprised when Lucille refused to let go of him. "Luci, I have to go help. Just stay here. I'll be back in a moment."

"N-no... stay." Lucille begged, hiding his face in the fabric of Victor's shirt and tugging him closer by his wrists as he was eased away. "T-Torrey!"

The blond froze at the desperation in Lucille's cries, then tipped up his lover's chin. "It'll be okay," he assured, shaking his head when Lucille gripped him tighter. Victor smiled, and his eyes took on the familiar, loving look. "Nobody's going to hurt you. You're not in any danger, you just have to stay quiet for a minute."

"T-Torrey—"

Victor leaned in, kissing Lucille's lips and easing him back in his chair. Victor cast a wary gaze over at the knife block, then lifted Lucille into his arms and carried him to the bathroom, where he locked him in. "I'll be back, okay?"

Silence enveloped the house as Victor moved into the kitchen, only interrupted by the shutting of the basement door and stifled footsteps padding down what Lucille assumed to be the staircase down to the basement.

The brunet turned to the mirror, placing a hand on his cheek and staring at his reflection. His eyes were wide and round, shining a seemingly dimmer, hazier shade of green than usual with a hint of fear laced inside, and he noticed that the bruises on his pale skin from trying to stumble to the bathroom the nights prior looked to be healing nicely, none of them too purple. He glanced up towards the window to find that it had been boarded up, all other remnants of him having broken it and wounded himself nowhere to be found.

Lucille took a few strands of his messy, dark hair between his fingers and stroked them thoughtfully to focus on anything but what was going on downstairs, deciding that he needed a shower.

A loud thump shook the floor, causing Lucille to jump, and his nerves began to prod at him again.

He wanted to know what they were going to do to the poor woman, but given Victor's mildly newly revealed tendencies, and the hungry look Vaughn seemed to hold in his eyes while he rushed into the house, he didn't really have to wonder much.

The teen sank down against the door and hugged his knees, careful not to strain his stitches. There was still a painful, swollen heat in his side that stung and pulsed even when he sat still, a bit more tender than when he'd woken up. He wondered what Noah had meant about his wound healing within the day with his help.

Soon enough, Victor returned to the bathroom to retrieve him, dressed in a fresh pair of clean clothes, his face no longer splattered with blood. He knelt down beside Lucille and tilted his head as the teen stood up at the sight of him, looking nervous. "What is it, sweetheart?" The vampire asked, furrowing his brows slightly when the brunet averted his gaze. "It's about that woman, isn't it? We didn't kill her, if that's what you wanted to ask."

"Y-you didn't?" Lucille was a bit shocked at how easy Victor read him, and he hung his head. "Why do you do it?" He asked meekly, causing Victor to stiffen, as if avoiding his pressing question. "Please, answer me. I want—no, I _need_ to know!"

Victor gently shushed the teen and shook his head in disagreement. "No you don't, angel. Not before supper. You only need to know what I tell you until then. Let's go get you in the tub, and I'll help you bathe." He took hold of Lucille's hand and bent down to kiss it before turning to the towel closet and digging out a soft, fluffy red towel and a matching bathrobe. "Here," he said, hanging it up on the wall hook. "You have a nice, warm towel and robe to look forward to, okay? They're mine, but I don't mind. Undress and sit down for me, honey."

Lucille bit his lip, wanting to press at Victor for a direct answer, but eventually decided that it would do him no good and changed out of his clothes as soon as Victor turned his back to him. The teen sat himself down in the tub and turned on the warm water, taking a couple tries at twisting the crystal knob to get it at just the right temperature for him. Victor knelt down beside the tub and stripped off his shirt. Lucille’s cheeks reddened, and he shifted his gaze down to the water rippling over his toes.

"Lean back for me, angel. We don't want your bandages getting wet," Victor whispered, pushing back Lucille's hair until it hung freely over the water. He handed him the towel and instructed him to hold it around him and close his eyes, then filled a large pitcher with water and poured it over his head, causing the teen to cough and sputter. "Sh... just keep your eyes closed. I'm getting the shampoo now, okay? Stay still for me."

There was a small plop as shampoo fell into Victor's free palm, and he lathered it in Lucille's hair before rinsing it out and gathering up the conditioner. "Do you want something to wash yourself off? There's a sponge right by your hand there—yes, that's it." He tapped a glob of body wash onto it and smiled as Lucille obediently wiped at his small, trembling form. "I'm done with your hair now, so you can open up."

Lucille's eyelids fluttered open, and he wiped at his eyes with his towel, then dried off his hair so it wouldn't drip. "Can... can you at least tell me how it makes you feel?"

"How what makes me feel, hon?"

"K-killing people."

Victor helped Lucille rinse off and lifted him from the tub, placing him onto the floor and drying him off. The vampire slipped his robe over Lucille's shoulders, tying a loose knot around his chest, and gave him a clean pair of boxers and shorts to wear. "It's hard to explain," he answered, tickling at his Lucille's neck, frowning when he didn't giggle in return. "You'll see it our way too, angel, I promise." The teen leaned his head on Lucille's back, wrapping his arms around his waist and stroking circles into his chest. "It'll all be fine!"

The color drained from Lucille's face as he was held, hating that it brought him comfort. He glanced back at Victor, whose eyes shone with a warmth and confidence that disturbed him.

It was almost hard to believe that he murdered people when he gazed at him like that.

A soft hand ran through his hair, and he shook his head, regaining his composure. "It's wrong," he argued, which seemed to surprise Victor, who frowned at him once more. "Killing people is wrong, Victor. I'll—I could never enjoy something that horrible! It's sick!"

"Luci," Victor whispered softly, only to receive a slap as he reached down to grasp Lucille's hand in his. "You're only doing this because you don't believe it's true. I understand you're scared but please don't hit me, alright?" He gently rubbed at Lucille's bandages. "Are you okay?"

Lucille shook his head. "No, I'm not okay! I'm in a house full of murderers!" He growled.

"You just don't understand yet. It takes a while for it to grow on you," Victor assured. "Someday you'll like it. I know you will."

"I'll never be like you!" Lucille hissed.

Victor hummed, a sad expression falling over his face. "You say that now, but you don't really know what the future has in store for you, Luci." He traced circles along Lucille's bandages. "It could end up surprising you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because, angel, I care about you, and I love you. You're only locked here until we can fully trust you."

Lucille began to tremble at his words, and how Victor of all people had been the first person in his life to say that to him. He allowed the killer's lips to meet his neck, albeit disgusted by his presence, and shivered at it. "Why should someone like you care?" The teen asked sharply, pushing away and standing with his back against the sink, relieved that Victor had released him.

Victor's lips curled into a smile. "Well, you're my boyfriend, of course." He gave another little laugh. "Caring about you is my priority." A small, pulsing noise came from the watch on Victor's wrist, and he sighed, clearly disappointed. "Sorry, angel. I have to head over to work. I'd take you with me, but," he paused to give Lucille a look, "I don't think I can trust you not to talk to anyone yet. Maybe I'll let you in a few weeks, if you're on your best behavior."

There was a soft knock at the door, and Noah slowly pushed it open, gazing in at the two with interest. "Hey, Torrey? Vaughn's on the phone; he's out on an odd job and will be a bit late, so I need you in there early, got it?" He sighed. "As much as I'd love to let you sit and stay with Luce, we're a bit at a loss without him."

On the phone?

The word sparked a new fire of hope in Lucille's chest, which quickly faded away in realization. Any phone they had was probably outside in the café where he couldn't reach it. He didn't even have his keys.

Victor muttered curses under his breath, then nodded his head. "I'll be out in a second." He looked to Lucille. "Do you want me to bring you a cupcake after work, angel?"

Noah pursed his lips. "That would depend on his behavior."

The blond hummed. "I know, Dad. It's just a bit of incentive." Victor patted Lucille's head and grinned down at him. "How about it?"

"I-I guess..."

"Great!" Victor clapped his hands together and moved past Noah, into the hallway. "See you in a few hours, Luci!"

Footsteps receded down the hall, and Noah shook his head in disbelief. "That boy. Sometimes I can't help but wonder what's going on in his head. Oh well." He folded his arms over his chest and turned to Lucille. "Well, dear, I'm sorry to say that you've joined me on cleaning day, but on the bright side, you'll have my help. The house may not seem too big now, but just wait until you're the one who has to mop the floors."

"So I'm just here to work?" Lucille complained. "You talk about welcoming me, but all I've been told is to follow orders and do chores while all of you are gone!"

"Now, don't talk like that. If you're going to get used to living with us, you need to grow accustomed to how things are run around here. You're lucky I'm here with you to do these things right now, with us being understaffed at work." Noah sighed. "I don't like this any more than you do, Lucille, but bear with me, please?"

The two made their way into the kitchen, and Noah showed him to a closet where the cleaning supplies were held. He slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, pulled out a mop, a bucket, and a few other cleaners, and dust rags, then filled the bucket with water.

"Alright, what you want to do now is pour a bit of bleach in the water and a bit of this green cleaning spray right here. It might sound a bit weird, but it works surprisingly well." Noah helped Lucille do as he'd instructed, then dipped the mop in and swished it around before squeezing it out and setting it on the floor with a wet, splattering sound. "You can mop around here for now from a chair so you don't strain yourself, and I'll clean up the counters, got it?"

Lucille said nothing and began to swab at the floor, creating a small puddle of water on the tiles. It took him awhile, due to the pain of his chest, but he eventually managed to clean up the kitchen. He glanced over at Noah, who was in the midst of scrubbing away at the countertops and made his way towards the stove, clearing his throat.

"I-I'm finished."

Noah cast a curious gaze over his shoulder and eyed the job Lucille had done, looking almost proud of him. "That's a good start, but try to get at it a bit harder next time, alright? I won't make you do it over again, but next time put some extra elbow grease into it, otherwise you're just wiping the floor rather than cleaning it up." He explained, then turned back to the counter and began to rub at the food drippings below the grates of the stove. "Think of it more as a time killer. It's a great distraction."

The brunet nodded his head. "Is that why you like it?"

"Hmm?"

"Cleaning the house."

"Oh," Noah nodded, smiling wistfully. "Yeah, sometimes. I used to spend a lot of time cooped up in the house by myself when I first turned." He chuckled and pushed a strand of hair from his eyes. "I was afraid to go out because of my hunger, so I cleaned to pass time." The man noticed as Lucille's mood seemed to drop and bit his lip. "It's going to be okay, Lucille." He bent down to him and took up the mop. "Here, trade with me."

When the two finished up with cleaning, Noah clapped a hand on Lucille's shoulder, beaming at their work. "Job well done, Luce! I think we've got the whole house done now."

Silent footfalls padded behind the kitchen door, and Vaughn stepped into the living room where Noah and Lucille sat, dressed in his work uniform looking more chipper than he had when he brought in the body. "Aww, have you boys been cleaning all this time? Poor darlings, you both look absolutely exhausted!" He made his way over to Noah and began to gently massage his shoulders. "You two deserve something for working so hard. How does a little treat sound, Lucille? I heard Victor promised you a cupcake."

A surprised look flickered in Lucille's eyes, and he had to pause for a second to replay what Vaughn had said in his mind before responding. "W-what?" He asked quietly, a bit startled. "You—you want... to reward me? But I... I didn't do anything."

Vaughn grinned, seeing an opening to sweeten the teen up. "Well, of course you did, dear. You tidied up, didn't you?"

"I helped, but it's really Noah who did all the work—"

"Nonsense! Noah, go get the boy a cupcake from the display." Vaughn sat himself down beside Lucille and ran a gentle hand through his hair, casting a fond gaze down at him. "You deserve it, dear. Everyone gets rewarded for doing something around the house once in awhile. Come, rest back a bit on the couch, love. You need a break."

Lucille leaned back against the arm of the couch, curling himself up in the blanket folded neatly over the sighed, his aching muscles being met with a sense of relief. He hated the question he was tempted to ask, but eventually decided it was better to ask than let it torment him. "W-when is Victor coming back?"

An amused look seemed to spread over Vaughn's lips, and he smiled. "It's only a few hours into work, but he'll be here to check up on you once he takes his lunch break. When you're finished with that," he paused to motion to the frosted pastry Noah was carrying to Lucille, "you're free to do whatever you wish until Torrey gets here. Then, we'll have dinner, and you're all his for the night." Vaughn watched as the brunet eagerly dug into the dessert. "How does that sound?"

The teen nodded slowly, entranced with the flavor. "It's—it's fine, I guess."

Noah chuckled softly. "See? He's getting used to us already!"

———

Lucille rifled through the drawers in Victor's room, careful not to disturb any of his items scattered about messily on the surface. He wanted a key—he needed a key! If there was something—anything—to unlock one of the seemingly impenetrable doors leading out to the café for a phone, or even one of the outer doors, he had to find it!

"You won't find anything in here, angel." Victor eased, lacing his fingers with Lucille's and cradling the teen's waist in his arms, causing him to jump, startled. "You're looking for a key, right?" He flashed his wrist to Lucille, which held the same clasp that Noah's did, and hummed. "Until you're wrapped around my little finger, I have to be extra cautious with you." The vampire planted soft kisses atop Lucille's hair. "I bet you didn't expect me to take a break so early, huh?"

"N-no."

Victor chuckled and rested his head in the crook of Lucille's neck. "I commend your smart thinking, though. But you know, normally you'd greet your boyfriend with a hug and a kiss. Maybe a little _‘welcome home’_ , or an _‘I missed you’_." He murmured, pressing his lips to Lucille's jaw and gazing up into the brunet's eyes. "It would make me happy if you did. After all, you love me, don't you?"

A whimper slipped from Lucille, and he bit his lip in defeat. "W-welcome... home." He stammered, shakily drawing Victor in for a hug and leaning into his chest. "I missed you, Torrey."

"I missed you two, babe. Noah says you were on your best behavior yet while I was gone? I'm proud of you!" Victor pulled back from his boyfriend and gazed out the window, watching as moonlight beamed past the drapes, then slipped a pill bottle from his pocket. "I want you to take one of these after dinner tonight, okay?" He showed them to Lucille, who quickly shook his head in fervent protest. "It's just to help you calm down enough to sleep better. You'll need that wound of yours to heal so we can get you ready."

"Ready?" Lucille furrowed his brows and frowned. "F-for what?"

The blond didn't give a direct answer, only ran a hand through his hair and tittered. "Just be patient, angel, and stop asking so many questions. Now, come!" He clapped his hands together and motioned to the door. "My break is over, and Noah asked me to pull you down to make tonight's dinner. I'll do most of the work, but I'll grab you a chair so that you want watch and help."

———

"This is absolutely wonderful, Lucille!" Vaughn spooned large helpings of stew into his mouth with an almost savage gusto. "You're sure you've never made stew before?"

Lucille flushed, overwhelmed with all of the compliments he'd been getting throughout the evening, and he nodded bashfully. "Erm... yeah. I-I don't really cook." He mumbled, then fell into silence as the conversation's focus slowly drifted away from him. The teen stirred his stew with a spoon, gazing into the murky liquid and picking at the small bits of vegetables in the bowl, not hungry.

Lucille let his mind wander, thinking of how concerned Edgar must have been when he didn't come home. He'd always been a sort of a protective older brother figure to Lucille. The two had grown up together, after all, and Edgar always stuck through with him no matter what problems were happening. The brunet bit his lip and hung his head, ashamed. He'd caused so much trouble for Edgar already, and being essentially kidnapped didn't help.

A hand brushed over his arm, and Lucille stiffened slightly, snapping his head upwards to find everyone at the table was staring at him, looking eager. "W-what? What's wrong?"

Vaughn tilted his head to the side, and Lucille guessed that he must have missed something in the conversation. "Well, aren't you going to tell us? We can't be left in the dark forever, dear."

"Huh?"

Noah chuckled, resting his chin on a fist. "What was your life like before now? I don't think we've ever asked. Won't you tell us about it, Luci?"

There was a small moment of silence, and Lucille wrung his hands, biting his lip. "I... it's really not that interesting." He picked at invisible flecks of dirt beneath his nails and averted his gaze from the table. "Edgar and I are roommates in an apartment complex not far from here, and we've been struggling to make ends meet lately," Lucille explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "My birthday paycheck was supposed to cover a full month's rent."

Victor gently took hold of Lucille's hand and smoothed over it with a thumb. "We'll send him the rent money, Luci, don't worry your head about it." He gave his lover's hand a gentle squeeze and gazed into his eyes. "He'll be fine without you," he swore, shifting his eyes to Vaughn. "That's not a problem, is it Dad?"

"Of course not, my love. We can afford it so long as Lucille behaves."

"Remaining on the topic of our dearest Luci," Noah continued, folding his arms before his now mostly emptied bowl of beef stew, "How much of this would you like us to explain, my love?" He asked, his tone soft, almost comforting in nature. "We don't want to overwhelm you, seeing as you've..." The man paused to motion to Lucille's untouched bowl, "lost your appetite."

The teen's breath shuddered, and he lowered his gaze to his lap. "Tell me all of it."

Vaughn let out a slow, steady sigh and nodded. "Back when Noah and I first met... he was what we vampires call a newborn; our nickname for freshly turned members of our kind," he began to explain, attempting to maintain eye contact with Lucille during the odd moment that the brunet would glance up towards him. "He didn't know what he was doing, and was killing when he fed. Newborns need to drink a lot of blood to keep from becoming violent and irritable, but their bloodlust is never fully sated.

"I offered my help, Lucille. He was dragging the last customer of the café down to the basement every night, but I decided that we would go out and target... stains on the town." Vaughn took a few more last bites of his share of stew before standing up. "Excuse me for a moment."

Noah watched as Vaughn walked to the pot at the stove to get a second helping, and he leaned in, clearing his throat. "It benefits everyone, Luci. These people are criminals, or terrible people," he rationalized. "But we do acknowledge that killing them makes us no saints. With a family size like ours, we need blood at least once every few nights."

"Where do the bodies go?"

The two men seemed to hesitate.

"Not yet, Lucille." Noah shook his head.

"What did you mean?" Lucille queried. "When you said that Victor chose me for this."

Vaughn tutted. "Luci, please don't have a tone with us."

Torrey reached out for Lucille's palm, taking it into his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "When we were in high school, I... I wanted your attention more than anyone's, Luci." He used his free hand to rub circles into his boyfriend's shoulder, his face holding a tender, yet possessive expression—almost territorial. "I got myself roughed up on purpose, knowing you and Edgar would walk into the locker room.

"And you came! You called for help, and didn't want me leaving your side." Torrey leaned his cheek onto Lucille's arm, gazing up at him, his eyes glimmering with a proud fondness. "It was only a matter of time after that... humans are quite prone to a vampire's charms." He tittered a bit, a smile widening over his lips. "Our scents are alluring, our skin is softer than silk, and our kisses are the best you'll ever feel. Of course," Torrey sidetracked, his smile forming into a grin, "I made sure you had feelings for me first. The rest was just to secure you with me so that I knew you were the one."

"When we offered you a stay at our home," Vaughn started, returning to the table, his bowl of stew steaming upwards into the air, causing Lucille's stomach to bypass his nerves and growl. "We would have taken care of you; made you into one of us—one of the family."

Lucille stood up, startling the others. "You wanted to turn me into a monster?!"

Victor pulled Lucille down into his chest, holding his arms loosely around his waist. "Calm down," he spoke, rocking him in his arms. "You're getting the answers that you asked for, Luci."

A sob escaped from Lucille, his body trembling. "What are you going to do to me?" He cried, fear crawling through his chest, making him sick to his stomach. Bile crept up his throat. "W-what are you going to do?"

"That's enough for tonight," Noah whispered. "Lucille, please do yourself a favor and have just a little bit of your dinner, okay?"

"What's going to happen to me?!"

Torrey eased the pill bottle from his pocket, tapping one into his hand and pushing it past Lucille's lips. His lover struggled, moving to spit it out, but he lifted water to his lips and poured it in, pinching his nose. "You need to calm down—this is for your own good, honey. It'll help you."

Lucille grasped at Torrey's wrist, digging his nails into it, but Vaughn stood behind his chair, drawing his hands back. He began to choke, squeezing his eyes shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. His lungs burned, and he swallowed, drawing in a deep, gasping breath of air. "Please," he begged, flinching away when Torrey raised a spoonful of stew to his lips. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Sh..." Torrey slipped the spoon in. "Chew and swallow, okay? You need to eat before the pill kicks in, honey. Do that and you'll be just fine."

The brunet slumped in his chair, his breath coming in short hiccups, and he sobbed, reluctantly chewing at the bite he'd been given, forcing it down his throat. When another bite reached his lips, he could feel his sobs weakening, his chews becoming slower until he swallowed.

His muscles felt slack, and he could barely whisper out a sound. He felt tired, all of a sudden, his mind drifting as stew was spooned into his mouth. Lucille could see Noah's mouth moving, and Vaughn's as he returned to his seat, but the sounds were lost on him; incoherent pulses of noise that he couldn't focus on.

Noah looked concerned, leaning to whisper something to Vaughn, causing the elder vampire to hesitate. They came towards Lucille once again, gently shaking him, their faces filled with worry.

The next thing he knew, Lucille collapsed onto the floor, and the world went dark.


	6. Tender Wounds

"Angel?" Victor gently nudged Lucille's limp form, furrowing his brows when he didn't budge. "Angel—honey, come on, it's time to get up," he said, beginning to grow worried as Lucille once again didn't respond to him. The vampire rolled his lover over and pressed his fingers against his neck, letting out a sigh of relief when he found a pulse. "Come on, baby, wake up." Victor gave him a shake, and Lucille whimpered in groggy protest.

Lucille opened his bleary, unfocused eyes and bit his lip at the sight of Victor, who sat beside him, stroking his cheek. He was strong enough to lift up a hand a few inches, but not enough for him to be able to get up. "I-I can't move..."

"Sh..." Victor pressed a kiss to his lover's cheek and lifted him into his lap before running his fingers through Lucille's hair. "It's alright, Luci. C'mere." He murmured, rocking the teen in his arms and rubbing at his back, gazing into Lucille's eyes. "I'm so glad you're okay! You can't lose your temper, Luci. I know you're stressed, honey—believe me, but you can't panic."

The smaller hesitated, not wanting to speak, but felt his lips move, regardless. "Y-you drugged me—" Lucille shook his head, raising a hand to massage his temples as a throbbing pain began to pulse in his skull, and Victor shushed him with a hand before easing his head into the crook of his neck. "You... y-you drugged me, Victor, you... you..." he leaned into the pillow in defeat. "I'm so tired..."

There was a small moment of silence as Victor seemed to contemplate something, but the blond heaved a sigh and returned his eyes to Lucille's. "I know, baby. It wasn't supposed to have a reaction like that—just calm you down," he whispered, keeping his tone soft to soothe the brunet in his arms, who squirmed a little in pain before giving a whimper and stiffening. "We're going to have a fun day today to make up for it. No cleaning, no cooking, just us. Dads are going out for their anniversary after you get a checkup."

"What's... today?"

"Friday." Victor eased his lips against Lucille's forehead, then held up his wrist, revealing a silver wristband with a key tied up to it, leaving Lucille with a sudden urge to snatch it up in his palms and make a break for it. "Maybe we could test a little experiment and have a bit of outside time later?"

Lucille frowned, curiously toying with Victor's silver wristband. "I-I want to go home..." He twisted the key on the band longingly and curled into a ball, the feeling crawling back into his limbs.

"I know, baby," Torrey hushed. "Noah and Vaughn didn't think it was a good idea to leave at first, because you're so adamant about going home, but I convinced them that we would be fine by ourselves."

"My head hurts," The brunet whimpered, when a hand smoothed through his hair. "Is—is there anything to take?" Lucille looked up to Victor and bit his lip, holding his palm against his forehead. "P-please?"

Victor pulled the band away and stroked Lucille's cheek, smoothing back his hair, then biting his lip as he noticed how scared and wary he seemed. "I'll get you something," he promised. "Luci, you... you like it here, right?" He asked softly, his breath hitching when Lucille only whimpered, afraid to answer. "You have me, and my dads, and we love you." The blond pressed a soft kiss to his lover's cheek and drew him closer.

"I-I just want to go home," Lucille whimpered hoarsely, gasping in pain as Victor squeezed him tighter. He shut his eyes and braced himself, shuddering at the feeling of Torrey's tears dripping onto his neck. "Please, I—don't hurt me! _Ah_!" The teen flinched at a pair of lips and hands running over his bare back. He trembled fitfully as his boyfriend tried to console him and attempted to slip off the bed, but Victor wouldn't let him. "Don't! Please don't—please! Don't hurt me, don't—d-don't!"

A quiet sob slipped from Victor, and Lucille hesitated, slowly starting to give in as the blond dipped back to kiss his lips. He shakily reached out to hug his arms around him, entrapped by the affection he was being given. The brunet tilted his head back and allowed himself to be kissed, letting his eyes fall closed once again. Lucille curled his fingers in Victor's hair and poked at his lips with his tongue, melting beneath him as he was attacked.

Victor pinned him down and ran his hands up his back, pressing kisses to Lucille's neck and chest, then his jaw, and massaged at his hips. "See? I love loving, and you love being loved, so why don't you like it here?" He swabbed the tears from his face, cupping Lucille's cheek in a palm and setting the other one on his lover's upper thigh. "I love you." The brunet caressed Lucille's fair, flushed skin with his thumb, wiping away a small stream of tears. "Can you say it back?"

Lucille's breath shook, and he stammered at first as he reluctantly tried to respond. "I-I... love—I-I love... ngh." He averted his gaze and whimpered from the pain in his head, but his face was effortlessly tilted back to that he looked to Victor. "I love... you."

"Good job, honey," the vampire praised, lifting Lucille into his arms. "Here, let's go fix you up some breakfast. Some nice, fluffy pancakes, alright? Doesn't that sound good?" He massaged Lucille's shoulders and ruffled his hair with a hand, smiling when he nodded. "Now I'll ask you again; You like it here, don't you?"

The mortal's breath hitched, and he nodded slowly, leaning into Victor's shoulder and letting himself be carried down to the couch, where he bundled himself up in a blanket. "I-I still need the pain meds." He glanced around the kitchen, watching as Victor pushed a key into the hole of a drawer, which Lucille had just assumed to be a natural indent, and it was pulled open to reveal a series of pill bottles. "C-can I have the max dose?"

"Huh?" Victor furrowed his brows, turning to face him, hesitating, guilt creeping into his gut. "Are... you sure?" He locked the drawer and set the pills on the counter, making his way back to Lucille and tilting his head. "That's—that's not good, angel. H-how bad does it hurt?"

"My—m-my head feels like I got hit... by a bus..."

The vampire offered him a look of concern and kissed his lips, then returned to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, as well as a few pills and handed them to Lucille, who gulped them down and placed the water on the coffee table. "You don't have to be scared."

Lucille drew the blanket over his shoulders, bunching up the fabric against his lips and glancing down to the cushions, not wanting to speak. "E-everyone's afraid of murderers," he murmured, easing slightly when Victor's hand smoothed through his hair. "I can't—I can't help it, I—"

"Sh... easy." Victor shushed Lucille, pressing kisses to the nervous teen's cheeks and smoothing his thumbs over his neck, hesitating when he trembled beneath him. "Hey, c'mere, it's alright, just breathe." He cradled the teen's small frame in his arms, ruffling his hair as he sobbed. "Baby... just breathe. Please, it'll be alright. You'll like it here, I swear it. It'll be good! It'll all be just fine, trust me."

There was a moment of silence as Lucille attempted to stop sobbing, and Victor gently peppered his face in kisses. "I love you, Lucille." He spoke against his lover's lips, feeling the warmth of Lucille's cheeks from only centimetres away. "Come on, let's go make..." Victor hesitated at the sight of confusion and fear on the small teen's face, and he sighed. "I... I know it seems scary to you, but... you're safe. Luci. Look at me."

Lucille tilted his head back to stare up at him, receiving a soft, tender look from Victor. "Victor, I—"

" _Luci_ ," Victor hushed, then smiled to cover up the stern nature of his tone. "Please don't try to argue with me, honey. I can give you a better life. I'll love you better than anyone else could. Isn't that what you want? We'll be together forever. You'll have anything you could possibly ask for," he swore, kissing Lucille's lips. "What's a little murder in between going to hurt?"

A soft groan slipped from the mortal, and he stood up, moving to the counter assisted by Victor, who held his waist. "S-so, we're having... pancakes?"

"We can have something else if you want, honey. French toast, crepes?" Torrey smoothed a hand down to Lucille's hip, giving it a gentle stroke, his face saddening when his lover flinched and gasped, recoiling from his touch. "The real reason I convinced my dads that we would be fine left in the house together with just the two of us," he began, drawing out pancake mix from a cupboard, "is because I wanted to have some alone time with you so that we could mend our own wounds that were... opened up with what you saw."

The brunet moved aside, watching Victor draw out a mixing bowl, a whisk, and a frying pan, as well as some butter and sugar. "I don't think we _can_ , Victor,” Lucille mumbled out. “Mend our so-called _'wounds',_ date... I can't do this."

The bowl shattered in Torrey's grip, causing Lucille to let out a yelp of shock and stumble back onto the floor, a mixture of both fear and shock shining in his eyes.

" _Don't_ say that to me, Lucille," Victor warned, his voice taking on a tone that sounded blatantly threatening; almost like a growl. "Don't you _ever_ say that to me again. I waited for you to notice me for _years_ , and so help me, I will _not_ let you go even if it means my life gets put in danger, do you understand?!" He snapped, his chest heaving as he glared down at Lucille. When his lover didn't respond, he narrowed his eyes, storming closer to him. "I _said_ , do yo under—" The vampire stopped at the sight of blood spreading out beneath Lucille's bandages, his eyes widening, all traces of his aggression fading in an instant, being replaced with an intense concern. "O-oh no—your stitches! H-honey-bun, I—"

"P-p-please don't hurt me!" Lucille shielded himself with his hands, bracing himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

"What is the meaning of—" Noah paused midway through rushing down the stairs, gasping at the scent of blood. "The stitches broke! Victor—" He eyed the broken bowl and Lucille's stance, a deep frown setting onto his lips. The man hurriedly scooped Lucille into his arms, setting him on the couch with a pillow beneath his head as the teen began to shiver in fear. "Wait right here, okay dear? Don't move."

Lucille whimpered in pain, stiffening at the thought of a vampire probing at a bloody wound. "I'm—I'm fine, I—I—"

Noah turned over his shoulder, offering him a subtle smile. "Lucille, darling, I'm a doctor. There's no need to worry, I'm not going to be bloodletting you." He turned to bend down beside the sofa, ruffling Lucille's hair to comfort him.

"D-Dad, can I help?" Torrey stammered, inching closer to the living room, visibly shaken.

"The least you could do after scaring him, and his stitches popping from the fall is help sit with him and keep him calmed down while I grab some medical supplies from my first aid kit." Noah stared back at Torrey with a hard look. "I have half a mind to cancel our outing at the cabin." He returned his gaze to Lucille, offering him a soft smile. "Sit still, Lucille. It’ll all be over soon."

A shudder rippled down Lucille's spine, and he felt bile sting at the base of his throat. He didn't care if Noah was a doctor; he didn't trust him one bit.

"Before you ask; no. Rest assured, I won't be feasting on your blood." He chuckled, but at the fearful expression on Lucille's face, his lips fell into a frown, and he turned to go up the stairs. "I'll give you a few numbing shots around the wound and suture it back up. As expected, there will be scarring."

"I figured as much." Lucille's stomach twisted at the thought of the scars; he hadn't seen his wound yet, and wasn't sure he wanted to see it after feeling the glass sink into his skin. He watched as Noah rushed down the stairs into the basement, then glanced to Torrey, who drew close so that he stood over him, his worried eyes flickering over every inch of the teen to be sure he hadn't hurt him in his outburst.

"Angel, honey, I'm so sorry," Victor whispered.

Lucille didn't know what to say to him. He was so shocked at Victors actions, he didn't know if he _could_ say anything. So instead, he turned his head away, a jolt coursing through his body when a set of fingers brushed over his bandages. In fear that he'd be hurt, he grasped Torrey's wrist to push it away, but the vampire shushed him.

"I'm trying to slow the bleeding—isn't that what you're worried about? That way there’s less blood; less of a scent to go around.” Torrey batted his eyes at Lucille in a way that suggested he was just trying to help, and strangely, Lucille felt himself relax beneath him. "This might sting." Victor pushed his palm against the bandages, the pressure loosing a whimper from the brunet, who grimaced and grit his teeth. "Tell me if you start to feel lightheaded, sweetie."

Lucille didn't hesitate to voice his discomfort. "It-it hurts," he muttered quickly, receiving a gentle shush in return as Victor stroked his forehead to distract him.

Noah returned to the living room sofa with an armful of several items; a syringe, a small bottle, gauze, bandages, a needle, thread, peroxide, cotton balls, and a pair of gloves all gathered up. He set them on the floor and got to work rather fast, and before Lucille could thank him, Noah had already slid on his gloves, disinfected the area around the wound and was in the midst of administering his shots.

Silence enveloped the living room, apart from an occasional hum of content from Noah. Lucille felt no pain, aside from a slight tugging on his skin as the curved needle weaved in and out of his skin. Once Noah was finished, he asked Victor for a towel, which he dabbed with peroxide and used to swab at the wound, as well as dry the bloodied skin surrounding it.

"Hopefully the scarring will be minimal," he said, glancing upward at Lucille before placing gauze over the thin line of sutures and beginning to wrap the bandages around his chest, "It's a very tight stitch, so it should just be a thin scar. I'm sure Victor would happily volunteer to help you around the house while we're out for the day, since it's bound to throb and be uncomfortably tender for quite a while."

"Thank you," Lucille breathed in relief.

Noah chuckled. "Any time, Luci. And if the pain gets to be too much, he can periodically administer some numbing cream around the area." He paused to seat himself beside Lucille on the sofa. "Now, about your reaction to the medication; what all do you remember from before you passed out?"

Lucille shifted about into a comfortable position, folding his hands over his stomach with a sigh. "I was... eating, and then suddenly I got so tired... everyone's voices started to blend—I couldn't hear clearly, and I couldn't speak." He bit down on his lip, averting his eyes to the cushions beneath him. "The next thing I knew, I woke up in bed feeling like someone had slammed a baseball bat into my forehead."

A worried flicker flashed in Noah's eyes. "I have an idea of what happened." He patted Lucille's shoulder. "With the blood loss that resulted from your wound, and your spotty eating since this whole ordeal, added with your panicked heart, it overpowered you." Noah smoothed back Lucille's hair and rubbed circles into his forehead, tilting his head. "My recommendation is for you to try to remain calm, and eat as much food as you can—a comfortable amount of food, of course."

"Y-yes sir." Lucille flicked a look towards Victor, whose eyes held tears of guilt, then back to Noah. "Are—a-are you leaving me alone with him?" He whispered.

Noah patted Lucille's shoulder. "Vaughn and I are leaving to spend the night at the cabin in a few minutes, love." He reached down, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "I'll have him talk to Victor in a minute. You'll be fine; it's only for the day, and then we'll be back."

Vaughn trailed down the stairs with a light suitcase, satchel with a few books and minor amenities for. Lucille remembered their anniversary trip the previous year; they took the whole weekend to visit their favorite, cozy cabin beside a scenic lake to relax. Vaughn had even wrote pieces of his books in that cabin; additionally, he used the area as a setting in one of his more famous novels, leading the lake to become a bit of a notorious visiting spot for writers looking for inspiration.

Lucille wished that they would take him with so that he didn't have to be left alone with Torrey after his outburst. He assumed the only reason they weren't leaving for the whole weekend was to prevent any possible escape attempts on his part. _'I won't cause any trouble,'_ he would say. _'I'll just sit in a room by myself—you wouldn't even know I was there.'_

"Sorry," Vaughn murmured, tipping his head to the side at the view before him. "I got distracted, when I caught the scent of blood. Is everything alright? I thought I heard some yelling..."

"Our dear Torrey here has quite rudely frightened his love, and broken one of my favorite ceramic bowls, no less—I painted that myself." Noah drew a blanket over Lucille, which the teen took into his palms and drew up over his neck. "Careful with how you move, love. Vaughn, would you toss me a bag of ice? I'm sure this is going to be quite the ordeal later, and I'd hate for Lucille to have to deal with it being so painful when the numbing wears off.”

Vaughn nodded slowly, stepping towards the freezer and tossing it towards Noah, who caught it in his fist and eased it beneath the blanket to rest atop Lucille's bandages. Vaughn glanced over towards Torrey, who took hold of his arm and squeezed.

"D-Dad, I didn't mean to—"

"Vampires do what they wish with their prey; kill them, eat them, scare them to death, bite them—Lucille is not our prey. Would you have yelled at your father and I the way you did to him?"

Strangely, Lucille noticed, Torrey seemed to shrink, the shy, sweet farce of innocence returning to his face.

"No, Dad." Torrey shook his head. "I-I just got so angry—Luci tried to break it off with me, I—" He hesitated as he saw Lucille flinch and turn to face the couch cushions, balling his hands into fists. "I want—"

"Lucille can't end up like Will, Torrey," Vaughn hushed him, keeping his voice low. "You can't get violent with him for being scared—we're not going to bury him too."

Terror gripped Lucille's heart, and it must have been obvious enough with his heart suddenly racing to catch Vaughn's attention. The tears returned to his eyes, and his body trembled ceaselessly. _Had Torrey_ killed _his last boyfriend?_ He felt Noah's hand touch his shoulder and braced. It was occurring to him again just how fragile he was—one wrong move and any of his bones could be ground to powder in an instant.

"N-no, Lucille dear, it's alright, I'm not going to..." Noah let his words trail off as the brunet's breath began to shake. He glanced to Vaughn, a sigh slipping past his lips. "Dearest, it's about time we headed out; don't you think?"

Vaughn nodded in agreement. "We'll be back tomorrow afternoon, boys; okay? Maybe by morning, if traffic permits."

Torrey's voice was barely above a whisper. "Y-yeah, sounds great," he managed.

In moments, Vaughn and Noah were gone out the door, the sound of tires rolling against gravel growing faint by the second officially leaving the two teens alone together.

"I-I'm going to go make those pancakes," Victor murmured, his shoulders sagging as he moved towards the counter. He was shaken by Vaughn's words, occasionally casting a worried gaze over towards Lucille's trembling frame beneath the blanket.

The house was silent as the sweet, mouthwatering scent of freshly cooked pancakes flowed out into the house, apart from Lucille's stomach giving a needy growl at the smell. He didn't think he'd ever been this hungry before; or that Victor could be so quiet. The only time Torrey had ever not spoken for more than a few minutes was when they were cuddling during a movie, or when he was asleep, and even then he managed to mumble amidst his dreams.

Soon enough, breakfast was ready, and Lucille tipped his head over his shoulder to watch as Torrey began making up two plates before heading over into the living room.

Torrey offered Lucille his plate of pancakes, which were a stunning golden brown, spread with butter and sprinkled with a generous amount of sugar. He reached out to tousle his hair, but retracted it as his lover's breath stopped in anticipation. His chest grew heavy, and he stood back with an apologetic smile. "I'll go ahead and put on a movie for us, alright?"

Lucille didn't respond, only stared down at his plate and began to pick at the pancakes he'd been given.

"Baby?" Torrey's brows knit together in concern, and he leaned down to his line of sight. "Are you okay? I know I scared you, but I didn't mean it—I just can't let you break up with me, angel."

The brunet trembled, attempting to back away into the couch. He took a bite of his pancake and nodded to Torrey, focusing on the sweet fluffiness of his breakfast instead of the vampire trying to get his attention.

"Y-you don't want to talk to me... do you?" Torrey reached out to touch him again, but Lucille recoiled, shrinking away. "Can I touch you?" He whispered, but his lover shook his head with a sniff. "You're not still scared, are you Luci?" The blond knelt beside him, concerned at the way he shivered and took in quick, short breaths. "I-I love you, you know. I would never—I would never _really_ hurt you."

He didn't like Lucille ignoring him—not one bit. He wasn't... used to not talking to him. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.

"How about I make you a deal?" Torrey asked, which earned his lover's attention. "I'm going to put on a movie for the two of us, like I said. Y-you can lay here on the couch. We have time to kill, so... how about some nice quiet time?” He placed a hand on the sofa, pushing himself back up. "I'm really, _really_ sorry that I yelled at you. I was... I was just so angry..."

Another nod from Lucille, and Victor retreated to the other end of the couch, curling up beneath a blanket and clicking on the TV. "I'll make us some nice, warm chicken parmesan for dinner, and for lunch I'll heat up some leftover stew to give you some extra energy," Torrey promised. "I only want to take care of you, Luci. You're mine, after all."

Lucille slowly glanced upwards towards Torrey, whose eyes flicked to his in an instant. He shifted his legs aside, moving to stand up, deciding he'd get a cool glass of water to refresh himself and stay awake after not moving for so long. He leaned up, but hesitated as Torrey extended his arms out towards him. The brunet backed away, easing himself up off of the couch as the pain in his chest began to return, albeit less so due to the melting bag of ice.

"No, no, no!" Victor lightly pulled him down, shaking his head. "I-if you need something, let me get it, honey-bun; I don't want you to stand up and hurt yourself."

A soft sob slipped past Lucille as he felt pain crawl through his chest, and he parted his lips to speak. "W-water," he stammered, causing the look of guilt to return to Torrey's face.

"O-of course!" Victor rushed back towards the drawer, scanning over the dosage instructions on the back. "I um—I don't—I don't want there to be any bad feelings between us, angel," he murmured, his heart sinking when Lucille's gaze fell to the floor. He could see him shuddering in pain, beginning to flinch and gasp while he curled back up into the fetal position on the couch.

_He could smell the warm blood beneath the wound._

His fangs slipped out into view despite himself, and he returned to Lucille, who gave him a frightened look, immediately spotting the pearl colored incisors.

“It's my fault," Torrey admitted. "It's... it's my fault that you got hurt. That you tried to run. And why... your stitches broke." He reached outward to smooth a palm over his cheek, but Lucille braced himself, and he pulled it back. "I don’t want you to be afraid. S-seeing you in pain because of me, I... I can't stand it." A frown passed over his lips, and he sniffed. "Is a romance movie okay, hon? Is it okay?"

Lucille gave a slow nod, easing his head down onto the couch pillow, soon met by Victor, who leaned over and drew the blanket back over him, tucking it around his shoulders.

The TV came to life, and in a few presses of the remote, a movie was all queued up for them. He could feel Torrey’s gaze over him as it began to play. Lucille could see him out of the very corner of his eye. It felt obsessive in nature, the way his eyes pored over him; not at all interested in the movie.

He didn’t see Victor’s gaze lift to the movie throughout the entire film.

Not once.


	7. Writer’s Block

Lucille bit down on his lip as he sat at the living room desk, a blank journal beneath his palms. Light rain pattered against the covered windows, and he felt himself fighting the urge to beg for them to be opened so that he might get to breathe even an ounce of fresh air.

He began to fidget, clicking the back of the pen in his left hand in quick succession, feeling his hand start to ache in anticipation for an oncoming cramp from sitting there for so long thinking up absolutely nothing in terms of ideas. The brunet transitioned to tapping the barrel between his fingers with a sigh, resting his cheek on a fist.

He didn't have his regular journal. No notes, no scribbles, no idea list, none of his old works—not that they would have helped him anyways. It was hard to write with a serial killer keeping a watchful eye on him from the kitchen as he cooked.

His stomach was full from lunch after he and Victor had finished the movie, and gratefully so, but the savory, succulent scent of roasting, marinated chicken and homemade seasoned tomato sauce was making his stomach long for something new to eat.

It was just another stressful distraction from his writing that made him want to pull out his hair out of frustration.

The teen thought back to the piece he'd written in his journal; his own little escapist fantasy of he and Victor.

_"Come with me," the prince spoke._

_"Who—who are you?"_

_A soft, inviting smile, and a laugh that tinkled like a sweetened bell._

_"Victor."_

Lucille shuddered. How could he have been so blind?! Blissfully unaware that his own boyfriend—his knight in shining armor, the love of his life—had been a murderous monster the entire time.

The mysterious late night emergency meetings with suppliers, the bloodied spots on the floor when he'd been sent to go retrieve flour from the basement, Edgar's constant warnings—

He froze.

_Did Edgar know? About Torrey—about his family? Did he know he was in danger? Was that why he'd warned him?_

A paranoid thought crept up on him, and his skin crawled with goosebumps.

_Was Edgar one of them, too?_

A set of fingers tickled the skin of Lucille's side, and he squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath in anticipation.

"What're you up to, honey-bun? My amazing little writer can't possibly not have any ideas; you've been clicking that pen since lunch," Torrey chuckled, giving Lucille's cheek a soft peck. "Are you stumped, sweetie? I can tell you've been focused, what with that hard look you've got going on."

Lucille bit down on his lip, shrugging his shoulders as he attempted to shy away from Victor's touch, and his boyfriend merely seated himself on the edge of the desk, drumming his fingers along the notebook with a look of mild deliberation on his face.

"Maybe I could distract you for a little bit while dinner finishes up; how does that sound?" Torrey offered him. "I know things are confusing right now, and you're scared after what happened earlier," he murmured, folding his hands in his lap, "I'm sure seeing my fangs out didn't help too much."

The brunet gave a hesitant nod of agreement, closing his journal and folding his arms over it, slumping over the desk with a sigh, and attempting to ignore the stinging feeling that accompanied his movement. A soft hand began to rub circles into his back, and Lucille flinched, causing Victor to pause.

He debated for a moment whether to give him an inch and let the blond comfort him in his state of restless boredom, ultimately leaning into his touch and allowing him to continue.

"Aww... you look so exhausted," Torrey crooned. "Maybe tomorrow, we could go on a nice walk together outside? Have ourselves a little picnic?" He moved his hand upwards to Lucille's hair, ruffling the silken locks beneath his palm.

However, when Lucille didn't respond to him, he huffed out a sparse sigh. "Luci... I understand you're upset," the vampire sympathized in a velvety, coaxing tone. "But we have to be able to talk to each other to communicate—especially since we'll be alone together for a while."

"Y-you scare the hell out of me, you know." The words left Lucille faster than he could comprehend what he'd said, and he felt Victor stiffen up. "I'm _terrified_ of you."

Torrey persisted. "If you were terrified, you'd be trying to run from me, honey. Don't you understand?" He tilted Lucille's head up so that their eyes met. "I only hurt our family's victims; I'd never hurt a hair on your head."

" _Our_ family?" Lucille bit down on his lip. "Family doesn't lock you inside of the house!"

The vampire looked hurt at Lucille's words, and he frowned in a way that almost made Lucille feel guilty for upsetting him.

"I don't want you to be afraid, Luci. I only want what's best for you right now, don't you understand?" Victor planted a soft kiss against the tip of Lucille's nose.

" _Why_?" Lucille begged him. "Why would you want _me_? As some sort of future meal?"

Victor sighed. "Angel, I said I wouldn't hurt you. I chose to date you. We were going to show our way of life to you—show our world to you, and introduce you into it, but... it wasn't supposed to happen so soon." He returned to stroking circles into the small of Lucille's back, frustrated by the look of fear in his lover's eyes. The blond gave him a squeeze, holding his forearm in his palm to lead him away. "Come on, Luci, let's go eat."

"Where does Edgar think I am?"

There was a small moment of silence, the atmosphere around the two taking a shift that accompanied the subtle tightening of Victor's grip on the mortal's arm.

"You always have to bring up Edgar," Torrey whispered, an obvious hint of distaste in his words as he spat out their companion's name like a soured fruit. "Every time we're alone; every time we ever do something, it's always _'Edgar this,'_ or _'Edgar that,'_ or some old story about what you and he did before I came into your life."

Lucille jumped as Torrey began to stroke his hair again.

"Are you trying to make me jealous of him on purpose? I'm the important man in your life, baby, not Edgar."

The brunet flinched. "I'd—I-I'd rather be home with Edgar than here with you."

Victor peppered Lucille's cheek in kisses, giving him his best state of the art puppy-dog eyes. "Don't say _that_ , angel. You're just a little upset that my diet's different from yours. But really, what can be so bad about getting to spend some extra time with me?"

 _'A lot of things,'_ Lucille wanted to say. _'But it's not like a monster would understand._ '

With little effort, Lucille was swept up into Victor's arms, startling him, and before he could react, he was being carried towards the table.

"Now," Torrey murmured, giving the tip of Lucille's nose a gentle tap. "Eat up, okay honey?" He dished him a plate of noodles, placing chicken atop them before cutting them up into even bits and ladling sauce over it. "I know you're hungry."

Lucille eased his fork into a slice of breaded chicken, twisting his fork around the noodles and dragging his bite through the sauce before easing it past his lips, giving it a thoughtful chew.

The flavor, as per usual with Victor's cooking, was immaculate, but he didn't dare let it show on account of not wanting to stoke the fire of Torrey's ego.

"Is it good, honey?" Torrey pinched Lucille's cheek, seating himself beside him at the table, his palms cupped around his face as he leaned his elbows on the tablecloth.

The latter gave an indignant shrug, when Torrey reached out towards his face. "Oh, don't lie to me," the vampire chastised in a playful tone. "I could practically see you drooling at the desk earlier while I was cooking it." He swiped a small spot of sauce from Lucille's chin, giving his thumb a lick.

Lucille watched Torrey dish up his own plate, carefully observing him as he began to wolf down his food in the most polite way possible. "You say you won't hurt me," he began, taking another bite, his stomach growling in protest at the slowness of his eating pace. "But earlier it looked like you wanted to take a bite out of me."

_And according to Vaughn, you might have taken a bite out of someone else._

There was a pause, and Victor shook his head. "I'll admit; I got... distracted by the scent of blood." He offered an almost sincerely apologetic smile. "It's hard not to be, what with having a boyfriend who smells so delicious, and all."

Lucille's eyes widened.

The vampire grinned.

"But don't worry, babe; nobody's going to touch your blood for as long as I live—and if they do?" Victor leaned close, tucking a loose lock of hair behind Lucille's ear and chuckling softly. "They'll be dead."

A shudder rolled down Lucille's spine, and he recoiled at the smooth, heartfelt tone Victor's voice held as he spoke. "P-please, Victor, don't kill anyone," he begged. "I don't want any more people to get hurt!"

"I love that you're such an angel," Torrey praised him. "But you're part of our family now, Luci. We're not the only vampire's out there; people get hurt. That's just how it is."

Finding that he wouldn't get through to Victor, Lucille resigned himself to returning to the dish before him, biting down on his fork and silencing himself. Victor seemed hesitant at his reaction.

Torrey finished long before Lucille, placing his dish in the sink and washing up the dishes he'd used to cook in the steaming water pouring from the faucet. He had to admit; he was slightly perturbed at the blank silence from Lucille, and wondered for a moment if he'd cracked.

His lover was picking aimlessly at the small remainder of his food that he'd scraped to a single section of his plate, poking a fork into the noodles and twirling them in the tines, only to watch them as they slowly slid off back onto the plate with a faint splatter of sauce.

But then again, what was there to talk about?

For the first time in awhile, the chatterbox of a vampire didn't have anything to say. He couldn't exactly ask how Lucille's day had gone; he'd been with him the entire day watching nearly his every move. The most Lucille had done since his dads had left was watch the movie and proceed to sit at the desk and aimlessly click at the back of his pen for hours, only interrupted by lunch and dinner.

Eventually, after he was finished with the dishes, Victor drifted over to Lucille's side, touching his index finger to the rim of the plate and tilting his head, his amber eyes searching Lucille's for any protest against taking it to the sink. "Done, babe?" He asked.

A nod.

Victor carried the plate to the sink, giving it a light scrub with a well-worn, sudsy sponge before setting it in the dishwasher and placing the sponge on one of the racks. He closed it up, and with a few presses, a light hum filled the kitchen.

Finally, Lucille moved.

The leg of his chair creaked, and Torrey turned his head ever so slightly to glance over his shoulder, following Lucille with his gaze as the brunet scooted away from the table, then shakily rose to his feet and towards the desk once more. However, contrary to his initial thoughts that the teen would return to the desk to write, Lucille gathered up the notebook, along with his assortment of mediocre office pens and started upward for the stairs.

"Where are you going, sweetie?"

"Room," came a soft huff from his boyfriend.

Lucille gripped the railing in his hand, gritting his teeth to prevent from grunting in pain from the burning sensation that spiked out across his chest with each moment, spider-webbing its way down his torso. His knees buckled, and he grasped tighter, regaining his balance. He didn't want Torrey trying to come to his rescue.

Slowly but surely, he made his way up to the guest bedroom, where he sat back against the headboard, stuffing a few pillows behind his back, saving one to put atop his thighs to use as a surface for his journal. He drew the covers up to his hips, clicking his pen.

What was there to write? What with all of the thousand different brand new horrors being chucked into his face every few seconds, it was almost impossible to focus and hone in on drawing one singular, coherent idea from the murky depths of his imagination.

Writer's block was a _bitch_.

For a temporary break, he moved to the bathroom to refresh himself; splashing his face with a bit of cool water. He cast a glance to the window to find that it had been boarded from the inside as well.

His bandages still looked decent, only a faint red stain of some of the lowermost wrappings peeking out past the others. The pain was manageable, but he could feel the medication he'd been given beginning to wear off as a slow, pulsing heat flared to life—he guessed the shot only lasted a few hours.

Like hell he'd ask for the numbing cream.

Lucille moved back into the bedroom, walking towards the dresser and drawing it open, surprised to find pairs of brand new clothing that were in his size to wear.

A chill ran down his spine, and he lifted a pair of pajama bottoms to change into, not wanting to risk putting on a shirt and bleeding through the fabric. He left his dirtied jeans in a small hamper by the door, then crawled into bed to write again.

He thought back to himself and the prince; back to writing Torrey as his knight in shining armor—his only saving grace; the perfect man that he'd considered spending the rest of his life with.

Something sparked inspiration in the back of his mind, and he brought the tip of his pen to the page.

_The Prince had taken a shine to the commoner, so kind as to offer him a stay at his palace. It was immaculate; crystal chandeliers, smooth, freshly polished granite floors, with servants all dressed up in fine black suits and dresses._

_The poor village boy thought he'd been brought out of pity—to be treated to a quaint dinner and given a place to rest before being cast back out to the streets where he belonged._

_But Victor—_

Lucille scribbled out the name, writing other odd letters over it to further obscure it. If Torrey was going to be nosing through his private business—which he wouldn't put past him in their current situation—he didn't want the vampire to know he was writing about them. Even if it was blatantly obvious with what Lucille planned to do.

_—Percy kept him longer. A day turned into two, two to a week, a week to a month._

_At first, he didn't mind it. It saved him from being a victim to the harsh realities of life outside of his newfound ivory tower. He was dressed in extravagant clothes fit for the finest lords, and fed the richest, most delicious foods from lands far and wide._

_The prince even insisted for them to share a bed, much to the boy's delight._

_Until one day, he found two marks on his neck, each the size of thick sewing pins, partially healed. He cupped a hand around the stinging wound, moving towards the restroom to splash water over the dried blood. However, he caught the prince out of the corner of his eye gazing over at him, a sliver of dried blood snaking past his lips upon his pale skin._

_He'd felt exhausted throughout the day, as if someone had siphoned his energy from his body, and retired to his bed early for a deep sleep._

_The boy awoke in the pitch dark dead of night to a distant scream, his eyes snapping open. He turned to wake Percival, but the prince was gone. Lucius—_

He decided to call himself.

_—searched the room, the only source of light aiding his eyes in their search the pale glow of the full moon fluttering in past the drapes._

_Lucius bolted from the bed, tugging on a robe and rushing out of the bedroom towards the stairs as the screams continued, the cruel sound leading him through a series of twisted halls that seemed to grow ever more darker—more sinister with each step he took, the stones beneath his feet beginning to tug at his skin as if begging him to turn back._

_What he found was the prince hunched over a commoner that could have been no older than himself, blood coursing down his chin. His scream pierced the halls, his heart pounding in his chest as the monstrous prince's gaze fell upon him._

_He knew he was next._

Lucille shuddered. He closed up the journal, glancing about for a place to put it. At first, he moved to place it in the bedside table drawer for his own convenience, but hesitated. His gaze flicked to the mattress, and he slipped off the bed, lifting up the corner and tucking the journal as far towards the middle as it could go to conceal it.

He slipped his glasses from his face, setting them down on the table and rubbing at his eyes with a tired yawn. He was tired for sure, but wasn't ready to sleep. Not while Victor was still awake.

A knock sounded at the bedroom door, and he yelped in surprise, vaulting himself back up onto the bed with a harsh grunt of pain as the movement strained against his stitches.

"I'm coming in, hon!" Victor called, and the door inched open to allow just enough space for him to slip in. He was dressed in a pair of baby pink, plaid pajamas that Lucille recognized to be the ones he'd given him last Christmas when he'd been asked to come for dinner.

"You've been awfully quiet, you know," the vampire pointed out, proceeding to flop himself down on the side of Lucille's bed. "What are you up to? You couldn't have been sitting here doing nothing for the past two hours."

Two hours? Lucille cleared his throat. _Had he really been writing for that long?_ “I took a nap," he lied. "Your knocking scared me off the bed."

Torrey hummed. "Where did your notebook go, honey-bun?"

Fear crept through Lucille's chest, and he averted his gaze to the side table, away from the bed to prevent from subconsciously giving himself away. "I'm not going to tell you that."

The vampire took the bait, glancing to the table and easing open the drawer, clicking his tongue in bitter surprise when it wasn't in there. "You're too smart for me, Luci. Don't worry, I won't go looking for it. Can't blame me for being curious; your writing has always been amazing."

Lucille didn't respond, only slumped down in bed, pulling the covers further over his chest. "This is the first time since being here that I've gotten to sleep without being drugged or passing out from blood loss."

"Well... in all fairness, we would have never gotten you to sleep the first night without Dad's chloroform, and the blood loss only happened because you tried to escape." Victor folded his arms across his chest, fixing Lucille with a look. "The pill was an accident. Valium. It wasn't supposed to knock you out—and definitely not for almost sixteen hours."

"Don't act like it's my fault," Lucille snipped. "You're the psycho that's keeping me here—none of this is my fault, apart from my awful taste in boyfriends."

Torrey frowned, hurt. He reached out, setting his hand on Lucille's thigh. "If you're tired, we could cuddle? Have a sleepover?" The vampire tittered. "I mean, technically you're already sleeping over, but maybe a sleepover in your bedroom?"

" _My_ bedroom?"

"Unless you'd want to sleep in mine?"

The brunet stiffened. "Not a chance. Can't you go sleep in your own bed? If anything, I'd sleep better if you were across the country from me."

A huff. Torrey sat up in the bed, frowning. "I don't like your attitude." He shook his head, drawing out a small bottle from his pocket, instantly causing Lucille to stiffen. "Relax. It's okay," the teen promised. "It's the numbing cream. I can practically hear you whimpering in pain when you breath. I just need you to let me unwrap your bandages—"

"Don't come near me!"

"Sh... I'm not going to feed from you, silly. Not without asking you first, of course." Victor sliced through the bandages with a finger. "Wait here a minute; I'll grab new bandages and a cloth to clean this up." He slipped into the bathroom, drawing out the med kit and wetting a towel before moving back to the bed.

The vampire gazed down at Lucille's chest, his breath hitching at the scent of stale blood. He brushed his fingers over the stitched up wound, hesitating when his lover trembled beneath his touch, Lucille's eyes fixated on his mouth. "Hey," Torrey pushed up his lip, revealing his fangs, which pushed a bit past their normal length. "It's okay, sweetie. Don't worry."

Lucille gave a slow nod, earning a soft smile in return. Torrey cleaned off the dried blood on the towel, pausing whenever Lucille winced or hissed in pain. He pressed a kiss against the brunet's nose, gathering up the loose bandages and tossing them into the trash.

"Torrey," Lucille murmured, glancing down towards his wound. It was a series of bloodied gashes and scratches, some sewn closed, most of them deeper than others. He bit down on his lip. "Who's Will?"

A pained look flickered over Torrey's face. "You heard that?" He asked, letting out a sigh when his boyfriend nodded. "I-I'm sorry... I can't imagine what you must have thought."

"Did you kill someone?" The latter asked. "Someone... before you kept me here?"

"N-no!" Torrey shook his head. "It's... only been you who I've loved my entire life, I-I swear. Only you." He took a portion of the towel, dabbing it with his bottle of numbing salve and spread it over the markings.

Thick silence enveloped the room as Torrey smoothed the cold salve evenly over Lucille's wounds, rubbing rhythmic circles into his lover's shoulder whenever he gasped or groaned in pain from his touch.

"Will... was my dog." The blond massaged the salve into Lucille's skin, focusing his stare on his chest. "I got angry one day; he wasn't... he wasn't listening, so I tried to get his attention and patted him."

"Vic... I—"

"He bit me. Hard; right on the wrist... so hard he fractured the bone. He never liked me, but I guess I-I spooked him. So I... I hit him." Victor's shoulders slumped, and he sniffed. "In the head, hoping he'd let go. I wasn't thinking about my strength.

"He'd always been such a horrible dog to anyone but Vaughn, but I... I know he didn't deserve it." He sat back, beginning to rewrap Lucille's chest. "I know you're scared of me because of what I do," the vampire spoke, keeping his tone as soft and steady as he could manage while tears pooled in his eyes. "But I swear I'd never hurt you. If I never got to see you again and it was my fault..."

Lucille sat upward, biting down on his tongue. He felt the need to comfort him, even though every fiber of his being begged him not to. The brunet eased his arms around Victor's waist, drawing him close. "I-it's okay," he whispered, feeling as the vampire nestled close to him and tucked his bandages. "I didn't know."

Torrey tilted his head up to meet Lucille's eyes, gently holding the fabric of his shirt. "Can I sleep with you? Please?"

"F-for tonight," Lucille allowed, and immediately, Torrey reached for the light switch, flicking it off and falling back against the sheets, holding the smaller to his chest, his arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace.

He laid there in silence for what felt like hours, met by the occasional shift of Victor's body against his own. It was almost like he was being tested—he knew Victor was still awake; he was moving around too much to not be, and would deliver a delicate kiss to his shoulder every few minutes at intervals that felt like clockwork.

 _It was probably because he didn't trust him,_ he reasoned with himself. He turned so that he faced Victor, whose eyes were closed, but fluttered open when he noticed him move.

"You promise you won't hurt me?" The brunet asked.

"Not a hair on your head, Luci. I promise."

A tender kiss was dropped on Lucille's head, and for the first time in the night, he felt Victor settle. It didn't take long for subtle snores to arise from the vampire, much to the mortal's relief.

Lucille let out a sigh, burying himself in the covers as well as he could beneath Victor's arms to sleep.


	8. Uneasy Premonitions

It took Lucille a moment to fully realize where he was in his groggy state when he awoke, rubbing at his eyes until he reached over towards the side table and palmed about the surface for his glasses, taking them into his hand. He rose from the bed, stumbling towards the stray pair of pants on the floor and patting the pockets, drawing out a cloth and drowsily rubbing at the lenses before placing them on his nose.

The night had winked past as if Lucille had brushed it away after what felt like just seconds of having his eyes closed, pale grey light peering down through the drapes of his window, accompanied by the mouthwatering smell of freshly made french toast and bacon.

Lucille made his way towards the window, drawing aside the drapes to reveal to his delight, a storming, grey sky outside, the view of the woods behind the house obscured by the constant stream of rain flowing over the window. He could faintly make out the curvature of the snow capped mountains in the distance, humming at the deep, darkened clouds hanging above them.

Despite the rain, he could hear nearby flocks of birds outside his window and scattered about the trees chattering happily among themselves.

He'd had a pet bird once. Or rather, his dad had a bird. Lucille had been the one who had taken care of him when he was younger as some sort of responsibility project borne from his father's unwillingness to care for it.

He was a small, green and yellow budgie, affectionately nicknamed Clover by Lucille—he didn't live very long though. Lucille estimated he was about six or seven years old when he found him lying on the floor of his cage.

It was then, just after he died that Lucille had begun to wonder about what it was like for the poor thing, living its entire life in a cage much too small for it with only Lucille to pay him visits and say hello until it passed.

_He was starting to understand how that felt._

For some reason, though, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that despite nothing had happened yet to make it so on the brink of the peaceful morning, it was going to be an awful day.

Shaking away his thoughts and stepping away from the window, the teen recalled the previous night, having fallen fast asleep in Victor's arms. He sighed, wanting to turn back and crawl into bed again to sleep, not quite ready to face whatever would await him downstairs. But a rumble from his stomach betrayed him, and he groaned.

Unfortunately, he needed breakfast.

Lucille cast off his pajamas, making himself comfortable in a pair of pants and a soft, green sweater. He slowly padded down the stairs from his room, the cool wood beneath his feet causing him to shiver.

He expected to find Torrey and Noah holed up in the kitchen making breakfast as they usually did every morning—or at least whenever he came over to stay the night, but only Victor stood in the kitchen, dressed up in his outfit for the day with an apron knotted around his waist.

Without glancing up from his collection of pans on the stove, Torrey smiled with a soft chuckle. "Good morning!"

The brunet surveyed the room, concerned when he didn't spot either of Torrey's dads. "Are... Noah and Vaughn not back yet?"

"Hm? Oh—no, I got a text from them about an hour ago; there's a big thunderstorm rolling in from the lake. It's raining too hard up there to even think about driving." Torrey offered Lucille a gentle smile. He dished up a plate of french toast for Lucille, keeping a watchful eye on the bacon frying beside it. "Did you sleep okay?"

A nod, and the brunet stepped over to survey the kitchen. The french toast in the pan was coated in a nutmeg and vanilla mixture, with hints of cinnamon sprinkled in. From the look of the milk, it appeared to be eggnog.

"You... found eggnog in late June?"

Torrey looked confused for a moment, then laughed. "No, silly, I made it! It's pretty tasty—I left some in the fridge if you want some with breakfast?"

"N-no, it'd make breakfast too sweet. I'm prone to sugar crashes."

"Well, it's there if you ever want any! I'll make sure there's at least a glass worth of it left for you if I go back to drink it."

For some unknown reason, Lucille began to find himself... upset.

Upset that everything seemed so normal—upset that nothing was happening—hell, he was upset Victor wasn't actively trying to murder him. Of course, he was thankful that he wasn't being murdered; he wasn't going to complain about that, but he expected him to be less... mundane. Less okay with what he was doing. Insane, maybe; mental institution level out of his mind.

Victor placed Lucille's plate in front of his chair, setting down the syrup and some silverware for him to use. He brushed his fingers through his lover's hair, pecking his cheek. "We're getting the least of the rain coming from up in the mountains, but unfortunately that puts our plan to have time outside for today on hold."

"I-I like the rain," Lucille murmured, earning a titter in return. "It's... fun."

"I know honey, but we don't have any umbrellas, and I don't want you catching a cold; especially not with you walking around shirtless and all," Torrey hummed, then snickered. "Not that I'm complaining about you being shirtless, of course."

The mortal glanced to his plate, then towards the syrup. "Is there any sugar I could use instead? Some warmed up butter, maybe?"

"Of course!" Victor returned to the counter, producing butter from a dish beside the bread box and the sugar jar close by it. He moved back to the table, spreading the butter over Lucille's french toast with a fork before sprinkling it with sugar. "More, sweetie?"

Lucille shook his head. "N-no, that's okay." He took a seat and began to slice up his toast into bite sized bits, easing them past his lips. "It... tastes really good, Torrey."

French toast was Edgar's favorite breakfast. He'd always whip some up on the odd occasion that he wasn't rushing out the door early for work, just so the two could sit down and eat together.

_Would he ever be allowed to go home?_

A look of surprise flickered over Victor's face, and he grinned. "Thank you, Luci." He pinched Lucille's cheek, hesitating when he saw tears begin to well up in his lover's eyes. "H-hey... what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I-I..." The latter cast his eyes towards the door, blinking back tears with a sniff and taking a few more bites of his breakfast. He shook his head, taking a piece of bacon from his plate and giving it a chew. "Could—c-could we eat lunch on the back porch? Since it's not really... going outside?"

Torrey thought for a moment, eyeing Lucille's gloomy state with subtle suspicion. "Sure, honey," he relented. "I'll go get you a light jacket later. But I want to reapply your numbing cream before we go out, okay?"

"Sure."

At the submissive tone his boyfriend's voice held, Torrey gave a soft huff and turned to pick at his food. "How does a warm shower sound after breakfast?" He asked. "You seem a little down today, it might help you ease up, if you'd like?"

The brunet paused. He hadn't bathed since after he'd gotten his wounds, and his hair did seem a bit oily... and what with the aforementioned wounds, it would be difficult to raise his arms to wash it, so he would need a bit of help.

That and the promise of gentle torrents of hot water rolling over his shoulders made him shudder with anticipation, desperate for the relaxing feeling. Even if Torrey was with him, he felt like he deserved at least some sort of compensation for the bullshit he was being faced with from out of nowhere.

He took the last few bites of his breakfast, then nodded. "I'd... like a shower," Lucille said, then hesitated, glancing down at his clothes. "I'll have a bit of laundry afterward..."

"Don't worry about it," Torrey hushed. "I'll have it taken care of; I can just wash it with mine." He dropped a kiss on Lucille's forehead, taking both of their plates to the sink and scrubbing at the dishes he'd used to put in the dishwasher later. "I would have offered a bubble bath instead of a shower, but I wouldn't want you sitting in dirty water with that wound. I know how to treat infections, but it's best to avoid the chance of them altogether."

"Can I ask you something?" Lucille queried. "With... without you getting mad?"

Torrey was reluctant at first, but shrugged, tilting his head. "Of course. What is it, angel?"

"Erm..." The brunet averted his gaze to the floor. "D-did you _really_ drink blood from a dead deer that was on the side of the road?"

Caught off-guard by the question, Torrey snorted, beginning to laugh. "That old middle school rumor?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Actually, no. I didn't." Victor moved back towards the table, leaning up against his chair. "It got hit by a car while I was walking to school. I... saved its life by giving it some of my own blood."

"What?"

"Hm?" Torrey furrowed his brows. "Oh! Sorry; our blood sort of has healing capabilities. Since we heal so fast after being wounded, if even a little bit gets ingested, it should reasonably heal that person's wounds," he explained. "That being said, it's dangerous to have blood contact with a human. Vampire cells are constantly reproducing at a much faster pace to keep our young appearances, so if a human gets vampire blood in their own, it'll overtake their body. That's how vampires get turned, anyway."

 _That must have been what Noah had meant when he was talking about letting them help him after his stitches had popped_.

Lucille considered the information for a moment, then looked back upward at Victor. "Were you turned?"

"Me? No." The blond shook his head. "Noah found me abandoned. I guess he'd pieced together that my mother left me to die after finding out she'd given birth to a vampire." He absentmindedly began to trace circles into the glossy wood of the table. "From what he tells me, turning is excruciatingly painful. Like your veins are on fire." Victor met Lucille's curious gaze. "It kills you. But the vampire blood restarts your heart after your body is fully changed."

" _Changed_?"

"Remember?" Torrey showed him his fangs. "Our true forms are what you saw that night. Slit eyes like a predator's, claws that cut cleaner than razor blades, our fangs, and nearly grey skin." He laced his fingers with Lucille's, giving his hand a light squeeze. "We don't exactly like our appearances—some do, but most prefer looking mostly human. But I don't have to hide my fangs around you anymore."

A surprising air of calmness fell over the room in a haze. Lucille folded his arms over the table, resting his chin over them with a sigh. "Answer me honestly," he mumbled. "Do you... really only kill criminals and... awful people?"

"The woman you saw us with," Victor started, leaning down so that Lucille could see him properly, "we found holding someone at gunpoint."

"What do you do with the bodies, Victor?"

A sigh.

"That's not a discussion we need to have for now."

Lucille gritted his teeth, but dropped it. In some sort of twisted way, he understood how they picked their targets—the world was better off without criminals and murderers, but... it was still so wrong.

"Do you understand now?" Torrey placed a hand atop Lucille's hair, ruffling it with a smile. "Most other vampires don't do what we do; they feed and kill. By killing criminals, we're keeping our town safe, and getting a steady supply of food." He gave a chuckle. "You don't have to be scared. Last time I checked, you haven't gone out and made yourself into a criminal."

"I guess not, no."

Victor hummed, giving Lucille's shoulder a rub. "Come on." He held out a hand, helping the mortal out of his seat and guiding him towards the stairs. "Let's go make up for that bubble bath we never got to take together on your birthday and hop in the shower."

Lucille followed him up the stairs, grimacing in pain as the aching pain returned to his chest. He needed to get that numbed as soon as they got out of the shower; he doubted that the pain would be manageable by the time lunch decided to roll around.

As soon as they stepped into the bathroom, Torrey helped Lucille with his clothes, hesitating when he saw the wounds. "I-if you want... I could give you some of my blood? It would help—they might not scar."

"I'm fine," Lucille spoke a little too quickly. "I-I don't want to drink anyone's blood."

The vampire nodded, turning towards the shower and lifting the knob, water bubbling outward from the head. "Hey... Luci?"

"Hmm?"

"You still love me... right?"

A troubled expression fixed itself onto Lucille's face, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He was ashamed of himself for what he was about to say.

He'd been with Victor for over a year; Torrey had been nothing short of the best boyfriend he could ask for—he'd been there for him when he was kicked out, and would drop anything he'd been doing just to come over and cuddle him in bed on his bad days.

He'd never once mistreated him, and they hadn't ever gotten into an argument besides over how dinner date bills would be split up until the past number of days. Lucille had been head over heels for him, and the feeling still remained in him deep down despite the mind-bending shocks he'd gone through.

Even knowing, and being afraid of the fact that Victor was a murderous vampire, he was the best thing that had ever happened to him. What he'd looked forward to for nearly every day of his life since they had gotten together.

"I think so, y-yeah."

Torrey pecked his cheek, stepping into the shower. He held out his arm for Lucille to use to balance himself as he followed him in, drawing him close so that he held him loosely against his chest. "That's all I need to make me happy," he crooned.

The shower was longer than Lucille had anticipated. After taking off his bandages and stepping under the warm water, the pain in his chest wasn't pulling any punches, forcing him to have to sit down to prevent from moving around too much. Tears stung at his eyes, and he leaned into Torrey's chest to keep still while the vampire gingerly tended to dabbing at his wounds with a soft sponge and rinsing soap out of his hair.

"Sorry," Lucille murmured, sighing as a rush of warm water rippled down his hair, sending a flood of lavender scented bubbles flowing towards the drain.

"For what, sweetie?"

"Making you have to worry over me," the brunet explained. "I shouldn't have to have you giving me a shower, but..."

Victor shook his head. "You're hurt, Luci. And I don't mind; you know I'll do whatever I can to make you feel better when you're sick or injured." He pressed a kiss to Lucille's lips with a chuckle. "Remember—before we were dating?" The teen grinned, slicking back Lucille's hair with conditioner. "Edgar was riding his bike, and he broke your leg because he couldn't brake fast enough."

Lucille groaned, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "How could I forget? I was bleeding everywhere, I hit the pavement so hard."

"And I was over at your apartment every day checking up on you and bringing you food to have while cuddling up on the couch watching a movie." Victor grinned. "If anything, it makes me happy to be able to help, hon. Don't apologize."

A look of surprise flickered over Lucille's face, and he tentatively raised his head, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. "Thank you," he murmured. "F-for helping me."

"D-don't thank me for something like that, Luci," Torrey pleaded. "I'd be a horrible person if I didn't try to patch up your wounds." He leaned close to move his lips against Lucille's own, receiving a gentle kiss in return.

The vampire paused for a moment, debating whether or not to indulge the pained teen before brushing a second, quicker kiss to his lips and settling his hands on his shoulders. "How's the numbing cream holding up, hon?"

"It's—it's fine for the most part..." Lucille leaned back against Torrey's shoulder, wincing as pain pinched at his skin. "It's starting to hurt a lot worse, though."

"Don't worry, angel, I've got you. You're okay," Torrey reassured him, taking hold of a sponge and returning to cleaning the brunet's wounds. The sound of his lover's choked back moans and gasps of pain setting a feeling of pity in his gut, his heart aching. "Almost done. Then we can get you all numbed up again hon."

"It hurts," Lucille whined. "Please, just a little gentler..."

"Sh... you're aright. We'll get you into some soft, comfy clothes and lay you down to rest, okay?" The vampire bit down on his lip. "I'll stay right next to you."

It seemed to temporarily quell Lucille's gasps and groans enough for Victor to ease him through the remainder of the shower, tucking a towel snug around his trembling form. He stepped out of the tub, lifting Lucille into his arms and carrying him into his own bedroom, setting his boyfriend against the pillows.

Torrey moved to his dresser, drawing out a pair of clothes and tilting his head over his shoulder to check on Lucille. "I'll go get the bandages; be right back!"

Lucille nodded, preemptively spreading out his arms to make way for the wrappings. He laid silently for a moment, flinching and grimacing in pain as he awaited Torrey's return.

In moments, Torrey was worrying over him, repeating the process of disinfecting the wounds and massaging numbing cream into his skin before laying gauze over them.

"How do they look?" Lucille queried. "Healing-wise, anyways."

"The bleeding has stopped for the most part, so I'm still leaving some gauze over them and wrapping it up." Torrey rubbed at Lucille's shoulder and pecked his cheek with a smile. "It's looking good so far, but we'll have to wait until dads get back to get a solid statement. I'm not a doctor, after all."

A nod, and Lucille brushed a hand over the bandages, letting out a sigh. He glanced to Victor, who curled his fingers in his hair and laid kisses over the damp locks while cuddling close to hold him. "Torrey?" Lucille bit down on his lip, straining to sit up in bed. "Could you please get me some clothes? I'm a little cold..."

"Of course, baby." Torrey moved to his dresser, drawing out a pair of boxers and a soft, green hoodie. He returned to the bed, easing the hoodie over Lucille's chest and offering him the pair of boxers. Lucille, however, looked a bit confused.

"Aren't you afraid I might get blood on the hoodie?"

"No, no, it's fine. It shouldn't be too bad." The vampire patted Lucille's thigh, tilting his head to the side. "Do you feel any better, Luci? Is it helping?" He asked, receiving a nod in return.

It took a while for the numbing cream to kick in, and by that time, he'd been carried downstairs to lay on the couch while Torrey fixed up lunch, which he guessed by the scent to be leftovers from dinner with a few additional slices of garlic bread. He'd been given a few painkillers to take in case the cream wore off, and they seemed to be doing the trick.

Torrey took a few snacks from the café, such as a pair of cookies, and brewed some fresh tea with a fair helping of sugar for Lucille. He heard the floorboards creak in the living room, turning to see Lucille making his way to the kitchen. "Almost done, angel! I hope you don't mind earl grey—I sort of mixed it with muscle relaxers to help with the pain. You're bound to be stiff."

"It's fine," Lucille murmured, shaking his head. "It'll definitely help." He stretched out his arms as best he could, then leaned up against the counter and took a mug into his palms for a sip. "Thank you for lunch."

"Oh, it's no problem, Luci. I love cooking for you! It makes my lovely honey-bun smile, after all," Torrey hummed, then set the plates on a tray and handed his mug to Lucille. "Here, you take these out, and I'll handle the bigger dishes. How does that sound?"

Lucille nodded, taking them into his palms and walking towards the porch with the mugs, closely followed by Torrey, who set the tray down before slipping a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. Victor glanced to Lucille as the lock clicked, watching as his lover's eyes quickly darted away towards the floor. He lifted the tray, stepping out onto the porch and seating himself on the slightly damp wood, then patted the spot beside him for Lucille to sit.

The brunet eased himself down with some assistance from Victor, then drew in a deep breath. "V-Vic?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"Can I rest on your lap?"

Torrey smiled, easing the tray aside and drawing Lucille close, easing out a sigh as his lover laid his head on his thigh in the midst of plucking a slice of garlic bread from the plates and nibbling at it. "Not so hungry, babe?"

"N-no, it's not that; I'm... recuperating, and need a bit of comfort. Anything I can get, really." Lucille bit his lip, shivering as a gust of cold wind brushed against his face, sending goosebumps over his skin.

Concerned, Victor rubbed at Lucille's shoulder. "If you're cold, we could go back—"

" _No_!" Lucille cried, startling Torrey, who snapped his hand back. "P-please, no."

Torrey's heart sank in his chest. "L-Luci—" He moved his palm to return it to Lucille's shoulder, but his boyfriend flinched and recoiled from his lap, resorting to curling up against the wall and pulling his knees close to his chest. "T-tell me what I can do to make this better," he pleaded. "I love you, Lucille; I don't want you thinking of me as—as a monster. It's just—it's just what I am! I can't... live any other way." The vampire heaved a sigh. "I've never hurt you before, so why would I start now?"

Lucille sniffed. "I-I'm just scared," he whispered. "You—y-you have me trapped like an animal—you _kill_ people."

A look of hesitation flashed over Torrey's face. "I... I know. I know it looks bad—it is bad, but... I can't lose you, Luci, and I can't have you telling any authorities about what you've seen; the law doesn't abide by our family's code of conduct." He reached back out, placing his hand on Lucille's knee. "Like my dads said; this is only temporary until we can trust you."

"O-our family?"

Victor gently brushed his thumb beneath Lucille's chin. " _Our_ family, honey. That's what we've always told you. You're a part of our family." He leaned in close, offering his lips to the brunet. "I love you."

Lucille's breath hitched. "I... I-I love you, too," he whispered softly, tentatively brushing his lips against Torrey's own.

Torrey moved his lips against Lucille's, receiving another small kiss in return, then was followed by a steady, slow pace of his lover's lips meeting his.

The vampire hesitated, debating whether or not to indulge the pained teen before leaning back in and easing a kiss against his cheek. "I don't want to accidentally hurt you if we get too far into a fun bit of kissing, Luci."

Lucille closed his hands around Torrey's shirt collar, nestling close. "I'm just tired after the shower and the pain," he murmured, brushing his lips over the tip of his nose. "I can't bring myself to fall asleep, so I just... don't know what else I can do."

Torrey slipped his fingers through Lucille's hair, tucking the covers around his lover's shoulders and drawing him close, easing his leg over his waist. "Here, close your eyes," the vampire hushed, a smile drawing over his face when Lucille buried his head into the crook of his neck. "I love you, Luci."

"Mmn..." Lucille nodded slowly, giving a soft groan as Torrey began to massage his shoulders. He nested himself back into Torrey's lap, feeling his breathing slow as the vampire gingerly stroked his fingers through his hair and down his back. "I'm... so tired..."

"You've had a stressful morning, baby," Torrey whispered. "Don't worry about it. I have some things to do today that you wouldn't have the energy or strength to help with anyways." He drew in a deep breath. "Let's get you up to bed then, sweetheart. Okay?"

"Mmn..." Lucille nodded his head. "I-I'm sorry, I know you probably wanted to relax with me today..."

Victor smiled. "No, no. You're okay, Luci. Don't worry about it." He lifted Lucille into his arms, frowning when the teen slumped in his grasp. The blond wondered if he'd given him too much medication—maybe he hadn't recovered a substantial amount of blood, or eaten enough to be able to handle the meds properly.

Thankfully, if that were the case, Torrey would have at least a few hours tucked up his sleeve to spare before Lucille would wake up.


	9. A Living Nightmare

_"Hey honey," Torrey whispered softly, offering Lucille a warm, charming grin. "I made breakfast, if you're hungry?"_

_Lucille drew close, nodding his head with a yawn. "What's for breakfast, babe?" He asked, stretching out his limbs before crawling into the comforting warmth of Torrey's bare chest. "You didn't want to wake me up to help you make it?"_

_"I wanted it to be a surprise." Victor gave a chuckle, pressing a kiss against Lucille's cheek. "Why? Was that bad?"_

_A smile drew over Lucille's lips. "Maybe... or maybe not." He pecked the tip of Torrey's nose, linking his arms around his neck. "What'd you make?"_

_"It's a surprise," Torrey hummed sweetly. "I think you'll like it."_

_Lucille tittered. "Well, if you're waking me up for it; it had better be."_

_Victor chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "For my angel? Only giving you the best will satisfy me." He eased himself off of the bed, inviting Lucille towards the door. His lover took hold of his hand, allowing himself to be walked out of the bedroom and towards the stairs. Torrey carefully held a hand over Lucille's eyes. "What do you think I made?"_

_The latter drew in a deep breath, confused at the lack of fragrance in the air. "I... don't smell anything, Torrey."_

_"That doesn't answer the question, angel," Victor snickered, guiding Lucille further down the stairs. "Make a guess, honey."_

_"French... toast?" Lucille queried._

_"No. Even better, sweetheart."_

_Lucille's eyes were uncovered as his feet touched the floor, and as his eyes adjusted to the light of the kitchen, his blood ran cold._

_Blood coursed over the table in thick, crimson rivers, bubbling outward from the glasses atop them like fresh, gaping wounds, coating the wood surface as if it were a macabre tablecloth._

_His breath shook, and he stood back, glancing upward towards Victor, whose skin had shifted to a deathly pale, almost grey tone, his mouth adorned with two sets of fangs, his gold hued gaze fixated on the brunet. "W-what—what is this?" He choked, his body quivering._

_"Don't you like it?" Torrey asked him, his voice soft, calming—loving. "It's all made just for you."_

_"F-for—?!" Lucille was cut off as blood began to spill from his lips, pain shooting up through his mouth. He stumbled forward out of shock, and Victor caught him, holding him in a gentle embrace. The teen felt something pushing against his teeth, aching to escape—he raised his hands to his mouth, only to catch twelve teeth in his palms, covered in blood._

_The sharp pains persisted, causing his knees to buckle as he cried out in pain, but Torrey's grip on him only tightened, holding him upright._

_"Aren't you hungry, angel?"_

_"W-what's happening to me?!" The brunet cried, drawing in a sharp gasp as he caught his reflection in the pools of blood on the floor. Replacing the twelve teeth he'd lost were twelve fangs, six on the top row spanning from where his canine teeth had been outward, and a matching rows of three on either side of the bottom. "N-no! No!" He panted hard, gasping out for air, letting out a shrill, bloodcurdling scream as the color drained from his skin._

_"Don't be scared, Luci," Torrey crooned, smoothing his fingers through Lucille's hair. "You're part of our family." He tilted his head. "Aren't you hungry? Don't you want to eat?" The vampire tilted Lucille's head towards the table. "It's fresh... just for you."_

_"No!" Lucille shoved Torrey away from him, stumbling backward into the river of blood and plunging into its depths. The crimson substance closed over his face, and he clawed for the surface, his mouth agape. "H-help! Help me!"_

"H-help me!" The words choked past Lucille's lips in a harsh, gritted manner, his throat raw from screaming, and his eyes shot open, taking in the view of the bedroom, breathing hard. Tears slid over his cheeks, and he scrambled to sit up, finding the sheets of the guest bed, as well as the hoodie Victor had given him to wear drenched in a cold sweat.

Sobs wrenched free from Lucille's lips, and he curled himself into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. He raised a hand to his lips, breathing out a shuddering sigh of relief when he found no traceable sign of fangs. The brunet quickly stripped off the hoodie, coughing hard into his elbow, the strain of his spasming chest causing the skin around his wound to ache with pain beneath the bandages.

"T-Torrey," he croaked desperately, then coughed hard into a fist, shuddering as flecks of blood flew from his lips. Panicked, he felt at his lips once more, drawing his hand away to find his fingertips coated in a thin layer of blood from fresh, deep bite marks he'd made in his sleep.

Water—he needed water.

Lucille stumbled out of the bed onto his hands and knees, struggling to his feet to make his way downstairs to the kitchen, hoping to get a cool glass of water without the possibility of Torrey rushing to get it for him—wherever he was—when he heard the lock on the back door click. He hesitated, debating whether or not to rush upstairs out of fear that someone would suspect him of trying to escape when they entered. The brunet rushed to the cabinet for a water glass, hoping it would ease suspicious in case Vaughn and Noah were just getting home.

However, a soft thud and a distinctly Victor-esque cry sounded from outside, and he frowned. Slowly, Lucille crept towards the kitchen window just above the dining table, reaching a trembling hand out to peek through the slit between the drapes, when he drew in a shocked gasp.

What he saw outside the glass was Torrey dressed in an unmistakably bloodstained jacket being pinned to the ground by a police officer, who held the barrel of a gun between the teen's eyebrows. He could just faintly hear the conversation, and shakily reached out to silently draw the window open a slight crack.

"Want to tell me what the hell you're doing out past midnight with a body bag and a bloody jacket, son?" The officer growled in a low tone, shoving the barrel further into Torrey's skin, creating a red mark that flushed his forehead.

"It's not what it looks like, Officer, I—"

The policeman threw a swift, hard punch to Victor's jaw. "Rhetorical question, _boy_. Hands behind your fucking back or so help me, I'll unload an entire clip into your brain and then some."

The brunet clasped a hand over his mouth, backing away from the window. Thousands of thoughts were racing through his head, and he staggered back into the kitchen island, his breath shaking madly. He felt sick.

He held his chest with his other arm, biting down hard on his blood crusted lip as he tried to rationalize his thoughts—he didn't have much time.

If he did nothing, and let Victor get shot, he could run out of the unlocked door and escape with the officer, tell him he was being held captive, and show him the basement to have evidence for an arrest warrant to be made for the vampires.

But that was just what they were—vampires. Noah and Vaughn—they could easily flee the café and hunt him down seeking revenge.

His gaze shifted to the knife block, thinking back to Victor. His kind, loving smile, the way he held him close like Lucille was the most precious thing in the world; the way he treated him better than anyone had before—better than Edgar.

_"You promise you won't hurt me?"_

_"Not a hair on your head, Luci, I promise."_

A sob slipped past Lucille's lips, and he held his head in his hands.

He wanted it to be a nightmare—all of it! He wanted to open his eyes and wake up in Victor's arms to have his boyfriend give him a perfectly fangless smile and tell him good morning; they could go downstairs, and he'd get teased by Noah about how messy his hair was before the family sat down together at the table for a nice, normal breakfast.

But when he opened his eyes, he found himself still stuck in reality, faced with a choice where someone's life hung on the balance with either decision.

_Could he... really lose Victor?_


	10. Stained Palms

Lucille placed his hand on the doorknob.

Victor's breath hitched as he heard the back door open. _No, no, no, no, no,_ he thought. He caught the scent of Lucille's blood blossoming into the air, a feeling of dread pooling up in his gut. _Don't run, Luci!_

The officer's head turned to find the source of the noise, his eyes widening at the sight of the teen behind him. "Go back inside, young man!" He warned, holding out a hand to block him. "It's not safe—this man is under arrest for murder, and was just caught trying to break into this house."

"O-officer," Lucille stammered, flicking a glance to Torrey, who met his eyes for a moment before leaning his head back, resigning himself to his fate. "Should—sh-should I get my parents? They're a-asleep upstairs; I just came down for a glass of water."

Torrey's eyes snapped back up. "What?"

"Shut the hell up!" The man pressed his knee into Victor's chest, causing him to wheeze, and Lucille cried out. "Go on and get them—and quick." He returned his attention to the blond beneath him, grinning when the back door shut. "You're in for a world of hell now, kid—"

Suddenly, blood was spilling from the officer's mouth, dribbling down his chin, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and shock. Torrey sat in bewilderment, frozen in place as he saw the sudden presence of the tip of a blade jutting out from the man's throat. The blade was yanked back, and the officer promptly slumped over onto the grass to reveal Lucille crouched behind him, panting heavily as blood spewed onto the soil.

A bloodied chef's knife was clutched feebly in his pale, trembling hands, having just been dislodged from the back of the officer's neck, his eyes filled with tears that began to spill down his cheeks in thin streams towards his chin, turning pink as they merged with the splatters of blood streaking his face.

Lucille dropped to his knees beside Victor, hugging his arms around his waist and burying himself into his chest. "A-are you okay?" He asked softly, giving him a tight squeeze and letting out a sob into the warm, wet fabric of Torrey's jacket. The teen balled his blood slicked hands into fists around the back, desperate for an answer amidst the tense air of silence. "V-Vic?"

Victor sat stunned, raising a hand to smooth his fingers through Lucille's hair. He pressed tender kisses against his forehead, tilting Lucille's head upward to plant his lips to his cheek. "Lucy... I'm..." He leaned upward into a sitting position, cradling him in his arms and crashing their lips together. "I'm perfect, angel," he breathed. "Come here baby—it's okay."

Sobs escaped past Lucille's lips, and he leaned into Torrey's touch. "I didn't want him to hurt you," he blubbered. "Don't let go of me, Vic— _please_ d-don't let go."

"Hey," Torrey hushed, dropping kisses along Lucille's neck. "Let me take you somewhere, okay? We can calm down and relax where you don't have to worry about any of this." He caressed his cheek, drawing off his jacket and using it to clean Lucille's face of blood. "Do you want that? It'll just be you and me—you won't have to think about anything."

Lucille hiccuped, sobbing into Totrey's shoulder. "Y-yes please," he whispered.

"Okay," Torrey soothed. "I'm going to go put the officer downstairs hon, and I want you to stay still and wait here for me." He stood up, pecking the tip of Lucille's nose. "I'm trusting you to stay still right here."

"I-I will, I promise," Lucille swore, curling himself into a ball. "Just take—t-take him away."

"Good," Torrey praised.

He eased Lucille against the wall, lifting the body over his shoulder and taking the straps of the body bag onto his shoulder, then held out his free hand for the knife still clenched in Lucille's fist. "Everything will be okay. Just let me have the knife, and I can make it all go away."

Lucille nodded wordlessly, pushing the knife into Victor's hold.

The vampire ducked inside the house, where he trekked through the kitchen and shoved open the basement door, making his way down the stairs and dropping the man to the floor before dusting off his hands.

The blond plucked a notepad from the basement table that was used to keep track of supply counts, tearing out a new page and scribbling down a quick note for his fathers, who were bound to pick up on the scent as soon as they get home. He didn't want to be woken up in the morning to face heavy inquisition as to how the bodies got there, after all.

One body of a lonely hiker with no ID or cell phone on him was normal to find, not warranting an explanation beyond saying that he was hungry and needed a snack, but the cop would be an entirely different story.

_Welcome home! Presents courtesy of my honey-bun and I; I'll explain later. Please don't wake Lucille in the morning, he's shaken up and needs his rest._

_Xoxo, Torrey_

He slowly made his way out towards the back door, finding Lucille still shuddering, twitching and jolting, hiccuping sobs shaking his body as he sat in shock. "Luci," he called softly. "Pumpkin, can you hear me?"

Lucille flinched. "M-mhm," he choked out, reaching up to Torrey, who lifted him into his arms. "W-where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere better than here right now," Victor insisted in a gentle tone. "Someplace you can get your mind off of this." He offered Lucille a tender, loving kiss, swiping away the smears of blood on Lucille's lips with a thumb before their lips met. "It's going to be okay," the vampire spoke, hugging Lucille closer. "You don't have to worry about anything; I'll keep you safe."

"P-promise?"

"I promise," Victor swore. "Hey." He gave Lucille a gentle nudge, tilting his head towards the sky, where the sunset was visible upon the horizon. "I want you to focus on that, okay? Watch the sunset; tell me what you see."

Gentle blues blended with pale yellows, mixing and mingling amongst the clouded skies to make smooth oranges and pinks, with a base of vibrant purple. The clouds slowly fluttered past, carrying with them a light breeze that caused Lucille's hair to fan and flicker outward. Lucille leaned his head onto Victor's shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath.

"C-clouds," he murmured quietly, curling his fingers around the fabric of Victor's jacket. "I... I-I see... clouds." Lucille avoided a sob with a cough, his throat aching heavily. "My th-throat hurts, Vic—a-and my lips—they're... bleeding."

Torrey frowned. "Did something happen while I was gone, hon? You didn't get yourself hurt, did you?"

"N-night—nightmare."

"Do you want to talk to me about it?"

The brunet shook his head. "Wh-why did you leave to kill someone after I... after I fell asleep?" He stammered. "You—you _hurt_ someone, Victor."

"I know," Torrey assured as he walked, rocking his lover in his arms while he did so. "But so did you, Luci." He let out a sigh. "The person in the body bag—they... they've been out putting rat poison and other toxic chemicals in dumpsters and trash cans in the streets to poison stray dogs—that's not a safe person to have roaming the town." He smoothed his fingers through Lucille's hair. "Now tell me about the sunset."

Lucille shook his head once more. "I... I don't want to talk about the sunset."

"I know. But it'll help keep you grounded in your state of shock—you're shaking like a leaf in the middle of a tornado." The vampire stroked Lucille's cheek. "Are you lightheaded at all, hon?"

There was a brief moment of silence, and Lucille sniveled. "Did I—d-did I kill him?"

Torrey nodded. "It... would be hard to say that you didn't," he admitted, then gave Lucille a tight squeeze. "Thank you for saving my life, Luci. I owe you."

"D-did you think I wouldn't help?"

A small, hesitant breath slipped from Victor, and he gnawed at his lip. "For a moment... I thought you would run, if I'm honest," he admitted. "It scared me—I thought that might have been the moment where I..." Torrey slowed his speech to a stop. "Never mind."

"But you're—you're a vampire," Lucille stated. "Couldn't you have escaped being... sh-shot?"

Victor hummed. "I'm not fast enough to have escaped his sight before he could pull the trigger." He shrugged his shoulders. "He probably wouldn't have got me in the head like he tried to, but it would have been close, and the bullet would have been a bitch. Especially if I'd had to take it out on my own."

"I-I—" Lucille choked back a sob, "I'm glad you're okay, Torrey." He drew in a deep breath, then cleared his throat. "I think I can walk now."

"Don't worry about it, hon. Really; I can carry you," Torrey insisted. "I wouldn't want you falling and getting those stitches aggravated; especially after you've already taken painkillers today, and didn't put on your glasses."

Silence hung in the air between the two as Torrey continued to walk away from the house. He'd brought Lucille into the thick woods behind the house, filled with towering pines and oaks, the grassy floor coated with droplets of rain.

The sound of crickets and the odd frog filled the air surrounding them, accompanied by the gentle rainfall that had amassed itself in Lucille's hair to the point where it dripped from the tips of his hair and slid down over his nose. Fireflies drifted about in the area around the two, weaving themselves around the swaying ferns and berry bushes, their glow faintly illuminating the path as the sun's rays slowly dipped beneath the horizon.

Soon enough, a waxing half moon hung bright in the sky, casting the forest in a pale light. They had been in the woods for what had felt like forever, but in reality had most likely only been less than a half hour. Lucille wondered why, if Victor were a vampire, that they were moving so slowly?

"See it, angel?" Victor asked softly, startling Lucille from the comfort of silence.

"See what?"

Victor nudged his shoulder in the direction in front of them, and Lucille raised his head to find that they were approaching a lake unfamiliar to him. Torrey has taken him into the woods before, of course; on occasion, they would go out to pick blackberries whenever they were in season, but he'd never been taken this deep inside.

Lucille glanced up at Victor, tilting his head. "Why here?"

"It's where I come to relax sometimes," Torrey murmured, half distracted as he gazed out over the lake. He came to a stop in front of the small, lapping waves and ripples that barely washed over the damp rocks and moss that surrounded the nearer perimeter of the lake. "I thought you might like it. We could go for a light, late night swim and wash off the blood in the process."

The brunet hesitated. "You didn't bring anything for us to swim in," he pointed out.

A smile slid over Torrey's lips. "You're not above skinny-dipping with your boyfriend, are you?"

"Won't my bandages get wet?"

"I'll rewrap them and apply some more disinfectant when we get home," Torrey promised. He eased Lucille down on the small, evidently handmade dock overlooking the lake, beginning to ease off his own jacket and shirt. "Just stay close to me, okay? I wouldn't want you drifting off."

Lucille frowned deeply. "You think I could run away from you with a wound like this? I can hardly walk more than ten minutes at a time."

Torrey winced. "I-I'm... a bit paranoid," he mumbled. "You said you wanted to leave me, after all. Even though you've only tried to escape once, you've been awfully insistent on going outside."

The brunet's eyes welled with tears, and he tugged off the bloodied hoodie he wore, rising to his feet and trudging away from the dock before stepping into the lake. The water was surprisingly warm, despite the chilling air, tingling against his cold, rain-soaked skin, and he could see the faint cloud of blood mixing into the ripples, washing away from his body. It came up to his lower chest in the more shallow area, but he gathered that the entirety of the lake itself wasn't too deep.

Torrey followed suit, sliding into the water from the dock, and he approached Lucille to help him into the water, but his lover shrugged him away as soon as his hand brushed his shoulder.

"W-why couldn't I have found a normal boyfriend?" Lucille stammered. "Why did it have to be you?"

Victor swallowed hard on a lump in his throat. "B-babe?"

"I can't have _anything_ good, can I?" Lucille let out a sob. "My dad's hated me since my mom left him—he kicked me out of the house! Edgar's been my only friend for as long as I can remember, and he ditches me for his friends!" He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, gritting his teeth. "And the only family I felt welcome in is made up of serial killer vampires!" The brunet's body shook, and he rubbed at his eyes with a sniff. "And vampires _exist_! That's supposed to be every sappy, lovesick teenage girl's dream—not a fucking nightmare!"

Sobs wrenched themselves free from Lucille's throat, his vision clouding with tears. "You're afraid of me running away, a-and now I'm a murderer. I have a _body count_ , Victor!"

"I-I know you're scared," Torrey whispered. "I don't want to scare you, Luci—but I can't just starve to death."

"Am I just food, too?!" Lucille snapped. "Some snack you're saving for later?"

A pang of hurt struck Victor's chest. "N-no." He shook his head. "Lucille, I wanted to turn you. Just like we told you." Torrey waded closer to Lucille. "So that we could be together for eternity if we wanted, because I love you. You're wearing my promise ring, after all."

"You would want me to become a killer like you?"

There was a pause, and Lucille felt Victor's arms gently wrap around his waist, the vampire's head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"If that's what it takes for us to have our happily forever after." Victor pressed a kiss against Lucille's neck. "I know you'd love being a vampire. You and all of your books, shows, and movies about us..." He trailed his lips up to Lucille's jaw, making his way around him so that they faced each other. "You don't understand right now, and that's fine—but you will. I'm not asking you to let me bring you fully into our world just yet; you need to taste it first."

"And what if I don't like the taste?" Lucille snapped.

Victor offered a gentle smile. "We go on a trip every summer; you remember, right?"

Lucille hesitated. "You and your dads go to your uncle's log cabin out of town for part of the summer for the Fourth of July."

The vampire nodded. "If you still don't like want to be involved with us, and with what we do by the end of that trip... you're free to do what you want."

A gasp slipped from Lucille. "I-I can leave? I'd be allowed to go home?" He asked. “You wouldn’t tell anyone what—what just happened?”

"Anything you want. And as for the cop, no one will be any the wiser," Victor swore. "But you'll have to be on your best behavior."

"I-I will!" Lucille promised. "I swear—I-I swear I will!" He threw his arms around Victor, letting out a sob as he nestled his head into his chest. "Thank you!"

A soft grin drew over Victor's lips, and he gave a content sigh. "Of course, pumpkin." He stroked back Lucille's hair with a hand, holding him close.

The rest of the night was surprisingly calm. With the promise of freedom within his reach, he’d decided it would be wisest to play house for his own self-preservation until he had been promised to be let go. Torrey seemed to be soaking up every drop of his mostly neutral mood, guiding him about the lake in a sort of gentle dance.

The walk home had been made up partially of Lucille walking on his own, another part leaning against Torrey for support. He was carried up the stairs, where he was laid gently in Victor’s bed, his lover’s arms wrapped loosely around his back. Despite his racing mind, he felt it unnervingly easy to begin sinking into the depths of sleep.

The last thing he felt was a soft pair of lips brushing over his neck.

“I love you,” Victor spoke.

Lucille’s breath shook.

“I love you, too.”


	11. Wavering Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not dead, I swear—

The sound of hushed voices caused Lucille to jolt awake with a gasp, his eyes flying open. He could sense the worry that accompanied the conversation behind the door, and drew aside the covers to start towards it, finding that he'd been dressed loosely in a pink pajama robe of Torrey's, his chest rewrapped completely.

_Had Torrey done it all in his sleep?_

He rose from the bed, taking a pair of his boxers from the drawer of Victor's dresser he kept his overnight clothes stashed away in and tugging them on before stealing some pajama pants, when he noticed a light, throbbing pain in his wrist. He glanced down to it, finding a swollen, purple bruise around his wrist where Vaughn had previously squeezed the first day he'd woken up just a few mornings ago.

He'd always been painfully slow to bruise.

With a sigh, he was about to open the door, when he spotted the soft glint of the ring Victor had gifted him laying on the dresser. He gazed at it for a moment, then drew in a deep breath and reached out to take it, placing it on his middle finger. Lucille placed his hand on the doorknob, slowly easing it open to find Noah and Vaughn each exchanging worried looks while questioning Victor.

However, when Lucille stepped out of the doorway, Noah's gaze flicked towards him. "Ah! G-good morning, Luci. Sleep well?"

Lucille nodded. "I... slept fine." He lightly cleared his throat. "A-about last night—I can explain—" He was about to apologize for the previous night's carnage, when Noah and Vaughn interrupted him by tugging him into a tight embrace.

"Thank you," Noah said softly, his eyes beginning to well with tears. "Lucille, if you hadn't been there to help, Victor would have..." He shook his head, giving Lucille a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for saving him."

Vaughn rubbed at Lucille's back, offering him a thankful smile, his lips twitching downward when he flinched. "We're very proud of you, Lucille," he enthused. "We were worried about what would happen if the two of you were left alone, but I suppose we really had nothing to stress over." The man drew his hand back. "And you provided us with extra food. I have to say, we're incredibly impressed, Lucille."

"I-impressed?"

Noah chuckled. "That officer has been on our backs for a while, parking his police cruiser near our property, and such. A dastardly man, really. We've had to be very careful covering our tracks around him, but now we have less to worry about thanks to you."

"Was... was he a terrible person?" Lucille asked, looking to Victor. "Within... your family code?"

Torrey's eyes widened, and he smiled, seeming almost prideful. "Of course he was, Luci. You did a good thing for us last night."

"W-what are you going to do with him now?"

There was a small, uncertain pause that caused a feeling of unease to settle in Lucille's chest.

"Drain him of blood, of course," Noah detracted, then drew in a breath. "Tell you what, darling," he began, placing his hands on Lucille's shoulders and guiding him towards Victor. "How about Vaughn and I make something to eat for a nice brunch—maybe some eggs and sausage—and you and Victor can sit in the living room and have a chat while you wait."

Lucille's stomach growled, and he bit his lip. "Could I have a slice of toast before breakfast?"

"Coming right up," Noah chuckled, giving Lucille's shoulder a light pat before heading down the stairs. "Come along now, Vaughn."

"Thank you, Mister Callahan," Lucille called after him, his breath hitching as Torrey's arms eased around his waist, feeling a gentle kiss press against the back of his neck. "U-um... Torrey?" He asked, turning to look over his shoulder at the blond, who tilted his head, curious. "Can I ask you about—about vampires?"

Torrey grinned. "Sure thing. What about it?"

The brunet thought back to his nightmare from the previous evening with a shiver. "How—how many... erm... fangs do... vampires have?"

The latter hummed. "You've seen mine, haven't you? It really depends on the family, but most vampires have just two on the top." Torrey lifted his lip to reveal his fangs. "Others have two on the top row of teeth, and two smaller ones on the bottom row, like my dads," he explained, leading Lucille downstairs to the living room. "Newborns are a different scenario, but after a while, they lose their extra fangs."

Lucille paused. "Newborns?" He asked. "What are those?"

A curious look formed on Victor's face. "Oh—have I not mentioned them before?" Torrey gave an apologetic smile. "Newborns are basically newly turned vampires." He ran a hand through his hair, flopping himself down on the couch and crossing a leg over the other. "They have less control of themselves than other older vampires, and a really nasty craving for blood."

"What do you mean _'nasty craving'_?"

Victor patted the cushion beside him for his lover to sit, and Lucille promptly took a seat, eyeing him expectantly. "Their bloodlust—something that's natural for vampires—can't be fully sated, so they're always hungry. They normally have eight or twelve fangs to help them fulfil their blood cravings, making it easier to tear and bite with," he continued. "But eventually the majority of them fall out when they mature past the newborn phase, and their cravings dull down to normal levels."

"W-what would be considered a normal level?" The brunet tilted his head.

"Think of it like... when you crave a specific food," Torrey said. "You want that food really badly, and think about it whenever you're hungry, but you don't have any of it, so you settle for whatever's in the fridge." He gave a wry smile. "Although I doubt any human has ever accidentally killed someone over food cravings."

Lucille swallowed hard. "N-no, I... wouldn't think so." He shook his head. "So... how does it work? B-being a vampire?"

"Well, for the most part, you're either born a vampire, either by two vampire parents, or a human and a vampire, or you're turned." Torrey shrugged his shoulders. "Although, some of the ones with parents where one of them is a human will have what's called dormant blood; like Noah and my uncle, Malice," he said. "Someone will be born with a very small bit of vampire blood in their body, and over time it'll overtake the rest of their blood; but it takes years for that to happen."

"How many?"

The blond pointed towards Noah. "It happened to Dad when he was around twenty," he answered, but at the nervousness in Lucille's voice, Victor paused, then gently eased a kiss to his cheek. "Want to hear something funny instead?"

The brunet gave a hesitant nod.

"Once when I was little, I didn't know how my fangs worked because I'd only been given blood in little sippy cups," Torrey began with a grin. "I ended up throwing a tantrum because Noah wouldn't let me have orange juice. So naturally, I bit into an orange, and my fangs wouldn't suck out the juice for me, and I sat there a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor holding an orange with holes poked into it." He started to laugh, expecting Lucille to join in, but he caught his boyfriend gazing towards the back door.

Noah entered the living room, holding a slice of buttered toast on a small plate, and Torrey's eyes lit up. "Um—so, Dad," he said, catching Noah's attention as he handed the plate to Lucille. "I was telling Luci that he could come with us on our annual trip to Uncle Mal's." The blond wrapped his arms around Lucille's waist, offering it a gentle, affectionate squeeze while his boyfriend nibbled quietly at his toast. "What do you think?"

A chuckle slipped from Noah. "Lucille up with Malice, Charlemagne, and your little cousin? The poor boy would be fawned over to death as soon as he stepped through the door." He turned his attention to Lucille. "My brother and his husband have been dying to meet you, ever since Victor gushed about you last summer." Noah tittered to himself. "At this rate, I'm sure they think you're a celebrity. We were considering postponing the trip, given the circumstances, but if you would like to go—"

"Luci would love to go!" Torrey grinned, giving Lucille's shoulder a gentle nudge. "He said so himself just last night, right honey?"

Lucille nodded. "Torrey mentioned it to me yesterday. It—it sounds like fun," he said. "Although I-I'm... not sure what they're like."

Vaughn leaned back from the stove as he turned on two burners to look over at Lucille. "You and Charlemagne would get along very well! The two of you have very similar personalities; I could see you enjoying each other's company."

"My brother Malice is a bit shy when it comes to having new company," Noah added. "But he'll be quick to warm up; and their son Morgan absolutely adores Victor. He's only thirteen, so not quite at the age to be much of a new friend, rather than a younger cousin. You might have your hands full with him; he loves new people."

"A-and are they all...?" Lucille trailed off.

"Vampires?"

Noah shook his head. "Morgan is actually a werewolf," he informed him. "Normally our species don't mix; mainly due to territorial reasons and our differences in mannerisms and such, but they found the poor boy abandoned out in the middle of the woods during a hunt, so they had taken him in."

Shock flashed over Lucille's face. "You... mean to say that werewolves exist?"

An awkward silence filled the room, and Noah cleared his throat. "Since you know of us being what we are, it would only be fair to tell you." He glanced back towards the kitchen, gasping out as Vaughn accidentally burned his hand on the stovetop, and promptly excused himself to dote over his grimacing husband while running his hand under cold water.

Lucille turned towards Victor, whose grip around his waist tightened slightly, and he could see him subtly clenching his jaw. "J-just how many vampires are there?" He asked, then hesitated. He'd been wondering how Edgar could have possibly been wary of Victor. Edgar was smart, yes, but sort of... a dumbass in the area of socializing, to put it plainly.

Edgar had dated plenty of people without seeing any red flags—Lucille would know—so why had he seemed so wary of Torrey all the time?

"Actually... c-can I ask you a question?" Lucille requested, biting down on his lip.

"It's about Edgar," Torrey surmised by the nature of the conversation, "Isn't it?"

Lucille's heart dropped in fear. "Just something small, I-I promise."

"What did you want to know?"

"Why is Edgar always so suspicious of you?" Lucille asked. "W-why couldn't I ever figure out what you were?"

"It wouldn't be fair for us not to tell you." Victor placed his palm atop the brunet's own. "Edgar was always suspicious because he knows our family is made up of vampires. Family drama, and all that. Does that answer your question?"

Lucille shook his head. "Why didn't he tell me what you were?"

A sigh slipped from Victor, and he transitioned to resting his chin on a fist. "Well, it's not exactly an easy answer," he explained. "But in our society—vampires and the like—it's basically forbidden to expose others to someone who's mortal. If it got out that he exposed us to someone, his family would face consequences." Torrey took a small bite from his own french toast, pausing to drench it in syrup. "Which is why I've never told you about him. In a world like this, whistleblowers can be extremely dangerous."

"N- _no_!" Lucille cried out, his eyes widening. "He can't be!"

"Oh no, no, no, hon," Torrey tittered, visibly amused. "I wouldn't dare have that dog associated with us—I'm almost offended, Luci." He leaned back in his chair. "No, no; Edgar's one of the mutts. Werewolves... that kind of stuff."

"W-what?" Lucille breathed.

Torrey nodded. "It's why he hasn't come for you. Werewolves aren't allowed on our territory; likewise the café." He bit his lip. "We hid it from you under the guise of a family feud—which is only half true—but... that's the rest of it."

"Does... does Edgar kill too?"

Victor shrugged. "Well, werewolves are hard to control under a full moon. Usually, they lock themselves inside, or go deep into the woods to make sure they don't kill—or only kill animals," he said. "But accidents happen; they're carnivores, after all—when they turn, at least. I'm not sure if Edgar's had one; an accident, that is."

Lucille's shoulders sagged. In his entire time knowing the two most important people he'd had in his life, they were both keeping potentially life-threatening secrets from him. Sure, if either of them would have told him sooner, he'd have probably laughed and told them to screw their heads the rest of the way on, but a lie was a lie.

"The... family feud," Lucille mentioned. "What happened?"

The vampire's brows quirked upwards. "Edgar and I... well, we used to be really close childhood friends, but... you know—" He paused to hush his tone. "Vaughn's scar?"

Of course he knew about Vaughn's scar; it was just above his left cheek, extending nearly to the corner of his mouth. He'd been told the story before; Vaughn and Noah had been out in the woods having a play picnic with Torrey when he was younger. A rabid wolf had lashed out from the underbrush, and would have killed Victor if Vaughn hadn't protected him.

The wolf's claws had nicked the lower area of his eye, but had caused it enough trauma for him to go mostly blind in it. Noah had to give it immediate medical attention, and he'd almost lost it entirely.

"I-I remember the story."

"Edgar's father gave it to him."

"Mister Jones?!" Lucille gaped. "W-why?"

Torrey shrugged. "Well, the rabies part of the story was true; Mister Jones had contracted it from a wild animal, and was attacking everything that moved." He sighed. "We used to help them—hell, Noah was their personal doctor! But after that, my dads didn't want to risk me getting hurt, and we separated ourselves from them." A pained frown slipped over his face. "Out of spite, they started up stupid rumors—like that one you'd asked me about."

"Drinking blood from a dead deer?"

The latter nodded. "Edgar's doing. We used to be such good childhood friends, too." He edged closer to Lucille, who finished off the slice of toast, and he leaned his head into his chest, being sure to lay it above his wounds. "Things got especially nasty when he found out I liked you, and eased myself into your little friend group." Torrey gave a wry smile. "We used to be best friends. His family are the ones who tipped off that officer from last night to watch us."

Lucille bit his lip. "I-I killed him," he whispered.

Torrey offered Lucille a gentle look, pecking his cheek. "I know, baby. But no one will know; it's alright." He looked up into the kitchen, watching with mild interest as Vaughn placed freshly ground and cased sausages into a frying pan with some bacon on the other. Meanwhile, Noah got started on the eggs.

"Am—am I a monster, Victor?"

A look of shock flashed over Torrey's face, and he tangled his fingers in Lucille's hair, pulling him closer. "No, of course not. A precious thing like you couldn't be a monster, Luci." He leaned back to meet Lucille's gaze, moving to swipe away the tears forming in his eyes with his thumb as they threatened to spill over his cheeks. "Let's go sit down at the table. Breakfast is almost ready."

The smaller nodded with a sniff, standing from the couch and stepping towards the kitchen. "I-it smells good," he spoke, earning a wide smile from Vaughn.

"Thank you, Luci, as always," the man chuckled, then offered him a soft look. "Take it easy today, okay? I can sense you're overwhelmed." He drew plates from the cupboards, setting the appropriate silverware on top of them and holding the stack out to Lucille. "Could you do me a favor and set the table?"

"S-sure." Lucille took the plates, setting them down atop their respective placemats, soon accompanied by Torrey, who looped his arms around his waist from behind and rested his chin on his shoulder, almost floating behind him with Lucille's every move. "Um," he began, biting down hard on his lip as he turned to face Vaughn. "After breakfast, could... um... c-could I go out to get... snacks?"

Vaughn bristled, and Lucille winced. "We... have food here at home, Luci," he spoke, his tone warning Lucille not to push the subject any further, but Noah gave his side a nudge with his elbow and muttered something beneath his breath before looking over his shoulder from his pan of sizzling eggs.

"What sort of snacks, dear?" He asked, however, Lucille shrank, quieting himself and averting his attention back to the table. Frowning, Noah made his way towards him, placing a hand on Lucille's back. "It's alright; just tell me."

"M-maybe some cheese puffs, and—and a soda?"

Noah gave his back a pat. "After you've eaten and gotten dressed, I'll let you and Victor go get something you both like. It's the least we could let you do after what you've done for us. We're running low on small things in the pantry, so it couldn't hurt to stock up a little." He shot his husband a look. "Would it, Vaughn?"

"No, darling, I suppose not," Vaughn murmured.

"There you have it, then," Noah hummed. "Just don't eat your breakfast too fast now, it might upset your stomach." He flipped the eggs, moving a spatula over to Vaugh's pan to briefly roll the sausages to get them evenly cooked. "Don't let them burn, sweetheart. You have to keep flipping them, or the casings will char."

The older vampire hesitated. "Sorry. I'm... distracted."

Noah tutted. "I can see that," he chastised in a harmless tone. "Victor, why don't you come help do the sausages and some hashbrowns instead, and you go wait at the table, Vaughn."

Torrey pouted for a moment, reluctantly lifting his head from Lucille's shoulder with a sigh. "Sit tight and take it easy, babe." He pulled out a chair for Lucille, pushing it in as his boyfriend sat himself down. "You like your hashbrowns crispy, right Luce? Eggs scrambled?"

"Y-yeah." Lucille rested his arm atop the table, leaning over onto it and beginning to toy with the small, empty glass at his side, tilting it about with a finger, when Vaughn seated himself across the table. He stopped, folding his arms and laying his head down, watching as Noah and Victor cooked.

"Would you like some orange juice?" Vaughn offered, but Lucille shook his head, starting to fidget with his wrist. The vampire took notice, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the bruise. He was about to speak up and ask what had happened, when he remembered the teen's quiet, pained pleas to be let go when he'd grabbed him by the wrist after the brunet had asked to go home. "I-I'm sorry," he spoke, however, Lucille merely hid it behind his arm and averted his gaze.

Lucille cleared his throat a little. "Noah, could—could I get up for some eggnog?"

Vaughn stood from the table. "Don't worry; I've got it," he said, moving towards the fridge.

"So Lucille, you'd really like to come with us on the trip?" Noah asked.

The teen looked to Victor, who glanced back at him expectantly. "I'm sort of... in need of a distraction. And they sound nice enough, so it... couldn't hurt, I guess," he said, sitting up relatively straight in his chair as Vaughn poured eggnog into his glass.

"You don't sound too convinced," Vaughn observed.

"I'm about halfway there," Lucille admitted. "A bit nervous about the thought of being in a house full of strangers who are... um... mostly vampires where I'm considered a snack food."

Noah laughed. "Oh, there's no need to worry, really! They would never attack you—though Charlemagne might, bit his attacks are mainly in the form of bone-crushing hugs. Morgan might nip your ankles, so you'd best watch out for those sharp puppy teeth." He grinned. "Poor boy can barely contain himself when he's excited, and the next thing you know, you have a sprightly little pup!"

Lucille gave a weak laugh, then hesitated. "Pup? But... he's thirteen, isn't he?"

"A werewolf's wolf form matures at the same rate as their human body," Vaughn noted, placing the eggnog in the middle of the table before returning to his seat. "He's more of a smaller adolescent wolf, in reality—Noah just calls him a pup, since the boy was a runt. His family was a pack of wild werewolves that abandoned him on account of his slow development."

The latter husband nodded. "Werewolves reach full maturity around age twenty, at which they've grown to be considerably taller than a human—some over seven feet." 

"S-seven feet?" Lucille's eyes widened.

"They're quite scary, and can be both bipedal and quadrupedal," Noah continued. "Of course, they're not just big wolves when they're mature—they hold a decently human appearance. Half human arms, legs, and such, a human stance, but that's about it, besides their hands and feet."

A nervous tremor rushed through Lucille, and he shuddered at the thought. A werewolf was a humanoid wolf monster that had a craving for human flesh... and he'd been spending his entire life around one.

"Don't worry, though!" Noah laughed, seeing the frightened look on Lucille's face. "He's kept locked up tight on full moons, and only gets let out if he's not being testy. Since he isn't mature, there's little risk of him doing much harm, being so small and stuck with Charles coddling him."

Lucille continued to listen in on the conversation, zoning out whilst staring down at the table as Noah and Vaughn continued on together about childhood mishaps with Victor and Morgan. Meanwhile, his stomach steadily began to growl as the smell of crispy hashbrowns compiled with freshly seasoned eggs and sausages enveloped the kitchen. It had felt like forever since he'd eaten a good meal and been able to enjoy the rest of his day without some sort of mishap.

His mouth was nearly watering at the scent, and hadn't even realized that breakfast had been finished until he was startled out of his trance by the sound of a plate of sausage being placed atop the table, causing him to reflexively flinch away.

"You okay, honey?" Victor asked softly, his voice laced heavily with concern as he scooped eggs onto his lover's plate. "Do you need to go lay down? Are your wounds hurting?" He passed a hand over Lucille's forehead to check for a temperature, thankful to find that he was normal. "I'm sure Dad could numb you up again, if that would make you feel more comfortable?"

"I-I'm fine. I was distracted." Lucille shook his head. "Could I have the ketchup?"

"Coming right up, babe," Victor assured, moving to the fridge to grab it for him.

Meanwhile, Noah made his way to the table with the hashbrowns and sausage, dishing every plate up a mostly even serving of each while eyeing Lucille with a subtle air of concern. "How are you adjusting, Lu? I know we haven't exactly made these past few days very easy for you."

The teen gazed down at the plate, mumbling his thanks to Victor as he was handed the ketchup bottle. "It's not so much adjusting as it is coping with what's in front of me," he said with a sigh. "I'm... dealing."

Lucille flipped the bottle, holding it over his eggs, and squeezed. However, as he was reaching for his fork to eat, he caught the sight of Victor pouring himself a tall glass of deep, red liquid from a pitcher. Immediately, he froze up, and the vampire seemed to take notice.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie, it's not—" Victor cut himself off as the pitcher bumped his cup, knocking it over onto the table. The substance spilled out from the glass, splashing onto Lucille's hands and hoodie. "I'm so sorry! Here, let me clean it up—I've got it!"

The latter raised his hands to wipe them, when his breath hitched as he saw his hands dripping with red. His body began to shake, as thoughts of the previous night he was desperately trying to force down surfaced in his head. He could still feel it—the warm blood staining his hands, the rush of adrenaline when he'd shoved the knife through the officer's neck.

When Victor reached out towards him with napkins, he cried out, recoiling backward with a force that caused his chair to topple sideways, his shoulder slamming sharply onto the floor. Ignoring the pain of the fall, he backed up against the wall, drawing his knees tight to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut, tangling his fingers in his hair with a sob.

_He couldn't think—he couldn't breathe!_

His throat felt tight, and his breathing grew strained—he could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

_He was a murderer! He'd killed someone! He had a human being's blood on his hands!_

"Luci?!" Torrey knelt beside him, attempting to gently pry Lucille's hands away, but the mortal began to sob harder, and he could sense as the heat of blood pooled below the surface of his cheeks as he cried.

"Victor, easy. Leave him alone and let me handle this." Noah swiftly rushed to Lucille's aid, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Luce, listen to me, okay? You're starting to panic. I know it might seem difficult, but you have to focus on me, love." He looked to Torrey, who stood in shock, uncertain of what to do. "Do you have any gum? Mint—something strong that he can chew as a distraction?"

Torrey hesitated. "N-no, I don't think so."

"Damn." Noah grimaced, gasping out as Lucille's breathing picked up. "Lucille, can you tell me what's happening to you right now? Can you do that for me?"

"I-I can ba—barely breathe," Lucille stammered out through cries. "I'm d-dizzy—I can't—I-I can't—" He tugged at his hair, shaking his head. "Get—get it off of me! Please just get it off!"

Noah's eyes widened at the realization of what he was thinking. " _Hey_ , look at me," he said softly, moving his head so that their eyes met. "It's only fruit punch. We would never drink blood openly around you without asking if you were comfortable with it beforehand—it's our fault for not saying so beforehand. You're okay. We can have Victor go get you a different shirt, and clean you off with some towels."

Lucille drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "N-Noah, I _killed_ somebody," he managed. "I... I-I—"

"Oh, Lucille..." Noah gave his shoulder a ginger rub. "I know it's hard to cope with at first, but that's perfectly alright, understand? He was trespassing, Lucille. He was going to hurt Victor. You did what was right to do." He eased closer to take a light hold of the teen's hand with his free one. "Can you breathe for me? In for four, out for eight. It's okay if you can't—we can work up to it, alright?"

The latter nodded, doing as he was told, meanwhile Torrey got nearly an armful of damp paper towels and began to gingerly swipe the punch from his lover's skin. "I-I'm so sorry, Lucille, I didn't mean to," he insisted, grateful when Lucille nodded and took a towel from him to speed up the process. "It's almost gone. Don't worry, honey."

"I'm sorry," Lucille whispered shakily. "I did—I didn't know, I—" He whimpered as Victor drew up his hoodie, squeezing his eyes shut when the latter pulled him into an embrace. He continued his slow breathing, focusing on the rhythmic beat of Victor's heart to help calm himself until his pulse slowed to a relatively normal level. "I'm—I'm sorry."

"Are you okay to get up and walk, angel?" Torrey asked, to which Lucille struggled to his feet and lifted his chair up, holding his weight against it for support. He stood up, using the remainder of his dry paper towels to clean the arms and seat of the chair before heading towards the stairs. "I'll get your shirt, you just sit back at the table and eat something. Dad, could you get the table for me?"

"I-I've got it," Vaughn spoke up, moving to grab paper towels, but Noah shook his head.

"I'll take care of it, darling, don't worry," he hummed, watching as his son promptly rushed up to the guest bedroom, then turning his head back to find Lucille sitting back in his chair. "Are you feeling better? I may be a doctor, but unfortunately am nowhere near a therapist, so my apologies if I'm not the best at trying to help you."

Vaughn cleared his throat. "If you ever want someone to talk to, Lucille, I..." He paused as Lucille fixed him with a fleeting, frightened look and hesitated. "I'm always here for you."

Lucille reached for his fork with a shaking hand, scooping a bit of eggs into his mouth and chewing slowly. "I'm f-fine," he mumbled quietly. "Thank—thank you." The brunet rubbed at his eyes with a sniff. "Could I have a box of tissues, please, Noah?"

Lucille shook with nerves while he and Victor approached the door to the convenience store, tentatively holding onto his shirt sleeve as if some invisible force would tear him away from Torrey and cause the vampire to accuse him of trying to run from him. The latter, however, didn't seem to notice, and simply gave his lover's hand a gentle squeeze, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Being that he was a shut-in introvert most of the time, being held captive helped him to realize how much he missed going outside until he was actively deprived of it. The sky above them was a light, grayish shade of blue, with large, fluffy clouds hovering in scattered groups threatening more rain on the town, and Lucille couldn't help but step into any puddle he managed to come across along the way. A part of him didn't want to go inside for the rest of his life.

They went to the corner store almost every weekend for snack food, mostly paid for by Victor, but he never seemed to mind. The store only stocked their favorite ice cream flavors on weekends, and they would normally grab some, along with movie snacks to eat in Victor's room while they cuddled on the bed and watched shows late at night on Lucille's laptop, given that Torrey's room had no television.

It was always nice, falling asleep in his arms under all of the warm blankets, and the soft sound of his laptop being quietly shut when he started to nod off before Victor would pull him close and wrap his arms around his waist.

Shaking the thought away, Lucille reflexively squeezed Torrey's hand back.

"You've been awfully clingy since we left the house, angel. What's the occasion?"

"N-nothing, I'm just... anxious," Lucille confessed, allowing Victor to lean in and pepper his neck in gentle kisses. "I'm not—I'm not going to run," he said. "I promise I won't."

The blond gave Lucille a reassuring look. "You don't have to tell me that. I know you wouldn't, just stay next to me." He pushed the door open, drawing in a deep breath of the strangely comforting scent of cheap, pre-cooked pizza, coffee, and hot dogs before smiling back at his boyfriend. "Let's say within three or four feet, hm? How does that sound?"

"It sounds fine."

Torrey subconsciously looped an arm around Lucille's waist as they were passed by another customer who was on their way out, noticing his lover flinch slightly at the gesture. "Cheese puffs are over here, sweetheart," he said softly, receiving a small nod in response as he led him over in the direction of the shelves of chips and stopped to grab a basket. The vampire grabbed a bag, placing it in their basket, watching Lucille as he glanced around, looking nervous. "Luci," Victor called, causing him to jolt and face him. "Do you want to get some popcorn, or hot chocolate?"

Lucille hesitated. "O-oh. Maybe... popcorn?"

The blond tipped a box of extra cheddar popcorn into the basket, offering his boyfriend a smile. "We could watch movies again tonight, if you want to? I don't know if I can take time off of work starting tomorrow, since it's a Monday, and all, so I thought we could try and spend as much time together as we can today, if you want to? I could make lunch again—or we could do it together?"

"I... erm... I guess we could."

Victor bit his lip. "Luce, is everything okay? You seem... distracted," he observed, gazing down at Lucille's wrist. "I noticed earlier that your hand was badly bruised. When we get home, I can have Dad look at your wrist? Is it hurting? Is that what's bothering you?"

There was a small moment of silence, and Lucille sighed. "Victor, I'm going through a lot today. While it might not seem like a big deal to you, my head's sort of fucked up right now. Especially after last night, and what just happened earlier," he stated in a hard tone. "I sort of want to be... left alone for a while. I'm not asking you to stay away from me, but ease up on the interrogations, okay?"

A surprised look flashed over Torrey's face, but he gave a slow nod. "Do... do you want Dad to check your wrist when we get home?" He asked, thankful when Lucille nodded. "Here, let's get you a cold drink to hold against your bruise while we shop around." Victor held open one of the fridge doors to the shelves of sodas for Lucille, then cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, did Vaughn say anything to you?"

The brunet froze, stiffening. "W-what?"

"It's just that... I noticed at breakfast that you never really looked at him. I mean, normally the two of you chat up the table, but it was different this morning."

"Oh." Lucille frowned. "I guess I'm just not feeling that social today," he said, holding a soda against his wrist and pushing the door shut with his arm. "Can I get some tea?"

Victor turned to the shelves and plucked a few boxes of assorted tea flavors Lucille favored from an upright stack. "It'll be fun with my uncles, baby, so at least you have something fun to be looking forward to," he said softly. "I promise it's going to be great." He placed the boxes in the basket, then offered his lover a light smile. "I... also noticed you put the ring on this morning."

Lucille paused, glancing down to his hand. "O-oh. Yeah... I did," he said. "Why?"

"No reason," Torrey eased. "It just makes me happy that you like it, and... that you would still wear it." He pecked Lucille's cheek. "Is that all the snacks you wanted?" The vampire asked, a bit annoyed when Lucille's gaze drifted towards the exit doors. He was about to harden his tone and divert his attention, but shook his head, deciding to clear his throat instead. "Sweetheart, did you hear me?" He said softly.

Lucille jolted. "Sorry, I-I'm fine with what we have right now," he spoke quickly, shifting his attention back to Victor, when he noticed his concerned look. "What?"

With a smile, Victor gave his cheek a light pinch. "You okay? You seem distracted."

"Just... wondering how many people outside are like you," the latter answered him.

"You can't tell by looking," Torrey stated. "But there's not a whole lot. The population in this town is sort of concentrated. But... it's not exclusive, if you'd like to be my immortal plus-one," he teased, then chuckled. "Just stay where I can see you, alright?"

A nod.

"And this sort of thing is... okay to be talking about in a public corner store?"

"There aren't any in here, don't worry. And trust me, if there were, they know who my family is, and could probably guess that you're with me, so they wouldn't mind too much," Victor tittered, but slowly stopped at the sight of the tired, fearful look his lover's face held. He didn't like it. "Hey," he said softly, giving his shoulder a light nudge. "I love you. You know that, right? I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Luci, you don't need to be so scared."

There was a moment of hesitation, but Lucille relented. "I-I know," he mumbled. But words like that could easily change. His father said he'd never hit him, but when he found out Lucille and Victor were dating, he'd beat him nearly half to death. Noah and Vaughn swore they wouldn't hurt him, but Vaughn brought a splotchy, dark bruise onto his wrist.

Sure, Victor hadn't hurt him, but after the way he'd snapped at him and broken a bowl, he wasn't too sure about how sweet and tender Torrey actually was. If he were angry enough, who was to say that he wouldn't be tempted to let someone attack him out of spite, or be compelled to harm him?

Victor turned to the small section of chocolate nearby, taking a few bars into the basket. "Is there anything you want for dinner, babe?" He asked, frowning when he looked back to find Lucille bent over an ice cream cooler half the store away. "Luci, what are you—" The vampire stopped as his boyfriend held out a pint of his favorite ice cream. "Oh! You found salted caramel?"

"They only stock it and cookie dough every other week on Saturday mornings, remember?" Lucille held it out, and Torrey gave a slow nod, taking it into his hands. "Sorry, I thought you might want some, since we normally... get ours together? These are the last two."

"N-no, I do!" Victor assured. "Sorry, honey, I wasn't thinking about that when we came in; I almost forgot. Here, is that everything, then?"

Lucille nodded, placing his ice cream and the soda held against his wrist into the basket. "I can't think of anything else to get that I would want," he said, hoping that the offering of ice cream would lessen the amount of questions due to fly his way if he hadn't distracted him. "Should—should we go back now?"

"Mhm!"

The two promptly checked out—Torrey having insisted that he do all the talking himself—and were en route back home. The sound of rustling plastic filled the soundless void between them as Lucille's hands shook whilst holding the bags, and Victor walked beside him, closely surveying the surroundings to be sure there was no quick path Lucille could slip away to before he could catch him.

Of course, he trusted Lucille with his life on any normal day, but he knew what fear could provoke a human to do, and Lucille was no exception. He also had to keep an eye out for werewolves. He'd had a feeling that they might have watchdogs tracking the house after taking Lucille, but they knew better than to outright attack the vampires and expose themselves, or snatch Lucille. Worst case scenario, they would find Edgar.

He looked back to Lucille, pausing when he realized that his lover was shaking, and decided to pipe up. "Don't worry, honey. No one's going to jump out and bite you, I promise. Here—see? We're home," Victor said, then smiled. "You don't need to worry about being around any vampires besides me, Lu. And I wouldn't dare let the dogs get to you either. You're safe, remember?"

"I-I know," the latter whispered in a hushed, quiet tone. He rounded the house, then pushed open the door leading into the kitchen with Victor close at his side. With a sniff, he set the bags on the counter, and was met by inquisitive looks from Noah and Vaughn at the sight of his flighty state. Lucille took a soda and the bag of cheese puffs, then began stumbling upstairs to his bedroom, when Noah called out to him.

"How did everything go, dear?" The man asked, seeming to be addressing both of the two before him.

Victor chuckled. "We had fun, didn't we, Luce?"

Lucille paused momentarily, but nodded. "Yeah, w-we had fun. Just... got snacks, and tea."

"Lu, didn't you want to show Dad your wrist?" Torrey asked, placing a foot on the stairs and holding his hand out to help Lucille down if he needed it.

Noah frowned. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself?" He stood from the sofa, moving towards Lucille and reaching out towards his arms, gently taking both of them and glancing down to find his left wrist had a dark, swollen bruise wrapped around it. The vampire looked up at Lucille, his eyes filled with visible concern. "Did someone grab you while you were out? Victor, you didn't—"

"No!" Lucille said quickly, sensing Vaughn's eyes on him in his peripherals. "I-I fell down off of the bed last night, and landed on my wrist. Before—before I went downstairs for water." However, his words earned him an odd look from Torrey, who frowned in the midst of putting away the remainder of their purchases from the counter.

"Oh you poor thing—why didn't you come to see me sooner? Breakfast could have waited for you."

The teen swallowed hard. "I didn't want to bother anyone while they were busy," he murmured. "I didn't think it would bruise that badly." He held his hand steady, flinching as Noah gently prodded at it with his thumbs. "Is it fine?"

"Mm... nothing's fractured, from what I can tell," Noah hummed. "The best you can do for it is lay it on some ice for a bit whenever you feel like getting some, and let it heal naturally. Just be careful not to bump it into anything. I doubt that would be an enjoyable experience."

"Th-thank you." Lucille drew his hand back, promptly making his way upstairs towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and sitting himself atop the covers to lay out his food and place them accordingly on the side table. Within a minute, there was a knock.

Victor leaned into the doorknob, clearing his throat. "Hon, can I come in?" Victor asked softly. "You forgot your chocolate downstairs."

_Chocolate?_

Lucille frowned. He hadn't picked out any chocolate; Torrey did.

The vampire waited for a moment to receive a confused yes, and slowly pushed the door open, being sure to shut the door behind him. He drew a bar of chocolate from behind his back, unwrapping it and breaking off a bite to eat. "Can I ask you about something really fast?"

There was a moment of silence, and Lucille nodded, allowing Victor to sit across from him on the bed. He unscrewed the cap on his soda, taking a sip and placing it on the coaster at the bedside table. "I-I didn't want any chocolate, Torrey, I—"

Victor held a finger to his lips, lowering his voice. "How did you get that bruise?"

Lucille's chest clenched, and he placed his drink back. "I... fell out of bed. Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Sweetheart, I would have been able to hear you fall out of bed from outside," Torrey pushed. "Please? I know you're lying. Your pulse is getting faster; I can hear your heartbeat. What happened?"

A feeling of guilt dropped in the brunet's stomach, and he bit down hard on his lip. "Do you promise you won't say anything to Noah?" He whispered, earning a look of immediate concern from Victor, who reached out to hold him. "When—when I was asking to go home at first, Vaughn... he grabbed my wrist, a-and wouldn't let me go until I stopped." Lucille's breath shook, and he drew his hand against his waist. "I'd mostly forgotten about it, up to the point where I saw it had bruised."

"Luci, why didn't you tell me earlier? I could have said something about it."

"I didn't—I didn't want him to be angry, or for Noah to get mad at him, or—or for anyone to be angry at me for asking to leave," Lucille floundered, feeling his eyes start to well up with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lie to you, I just..."

"Hey..." Victor leaned in, easing a kiss against Lucille's lips and drawing him close. "Sh... honey, you're alright, don't worry." He gently stroked his lover's cheek. "Can I hold you?" The vampire tilted his head, and the brunet nodded, allowing Victor to lay him down onto the pillows and move close. "If you let me, I can make your bruise go away and help your wounds, sweetheart. Please, let me make it better for you. I don't want you to be hurting because of Vaughn, so it's the least I could do. It would only take a little of my blood to drink, okay?"

The latter gasped out, flinching away. "V-Victor, I don't—"

Torrey shushed him. "Think of it as a sort of cold medicine, Lu. So long as it doesn't touch your blood, it's not going to turn you. You'll be fine. If anything, you'll feel better than ever." He held his palm to his fangs, biting down. Beads of blood slipped over his hand, and he held it up to Lucille's lips. "It'll help with your blood, too. I know that the meds you've been taking have been coming on strong with the blood loss. This will help."

Lucille's breath hitched, and he hesitated, then slowly held Victor's wrist and eased his lips against the wound. A steady stream of blood trickled past his lips, and his breath began to shake at the addictively sweet, savory taste. He slipped his tongue over the wound, feeling as energy poured through his veins, and his eyes widened. The teen watched the swollen bruise around his wrist melded into a normal, lesser shade, a tingling sensation beginning in his stomach that crawled up his chest.

In a panic, he pulled back at the unusual feeling, breathing hard, and Victor smoothed a thumb over his lips. "There we go. How did it taste, hon? Good, I hope? Not to brag, but... my blood's definitely a rarity—you can even ask my dad, since he did the bloodwork! I might cry if you tell me that it's bad."

"It's... amazing, oddly enough." Lucille held a hand to his chest. "I-I've never tasted anything like it before."

"I don't doubt that," Victor chuckled. "Vampire blood is incredible. You're the first person to ever taste mine." He licked the blood from his thumb, then began to examine Lucille's wrist, which had dulled to a greenish brown bruise, and laid a kiss on it. "I hope that... maybe you could extend me the same courtesy sometime? Yours... well, I couldn't even start to describe the smell, but I bet the taste is just mouthwatering—er, of course, there are other reasons to share blood."

Lucille tilted his head. "Like what?"

Torrey hesitated, an embarrassed flush tinting his cheeks. "Sharing blood is sort of a sign of trust. And commitment. Since you're human, it can also be a form of protection," he said. "Say we were ever separated, and you were found by another vampire. A human with the marks of a vampires fangs on their shoulder are strictly off-limits to any vampire who hasn't made those marks."

"So... marking your food?"

" _Luci_ ," Victor chastised, lowering his tone in a way that suggested not to talk like that. "It's a practice for vampires who have human mates. Granted, it's uncommon. Marking your food is different; you leave fang marks on their wrist. I'd never do something like that to you." He ruffled Lucille's hair, and his lover let out a sigh of relief. "Let me go ask what the plan is for dinner, and I can think up something to eat for lunch. You sit here and have a few snacks."

The smaller teen nodded slowly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes while Torrey headed for the bedroom door. "Thank you," he murmured, earning a surprised look. "For helping. I-I feel a lot better."

A warm smile passed over Victor's lips. "Of course, angel. Don't mention it." He opened the door, turning back to face Lucille before he closed it behind him. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Lucille sniffed, and the door was shut. He reached back for his soda, taking a few sips to wash the taste of blood from his mouth before falling back onto the pillows, holding one tightly against his chest.

It was Monday tomorrow, right? He knew that Victor and his family normally left the weekend before the fourth, so that gave him until next Friday to work himself into everyone's good graces to not bring any suspicion or distrust upon himself that would make them unable to go. It seemed easy enough, but with how wary Vaughn got when he'd asked to go out for snacks... he wasn't sure exactly where the line he wasn't supposed to cross was.

With a deep breath, he leaned over the side of his bed to retrieve his notebook.

_The prince didn't allow him to leave after what he'd seen._

_Percy swore to him that he was in no danger, and that he was safe so long as he remained inside the castle walls._

_"I want you to be mine, Lucius," he'd said. "My future king."_

_He wanted to show him to his noble relatives in a neighboring town, despite Lucius's fearful begging to be let go. And after attempting to escape the castle by way of a lower window that would have earned him a few sprains, at best, Percy had caught him outside, and sent him back up to the bedroom where he made a proposal._

_Lucius shook with tremors as he sat in the tub, watching Percy carefully as the creature smoothed a soft sponge over the glass cuts and streaks of mud from the fall with a strange, almost hungry look in his eyes at the way the mortal's blood soaked into it. His jaw was clenched firm, and he flinched whenever the prince pressed too hard on his skin._

_A soothing, melodic hum resounded in the vampire's throat, and he reached out a hand, tucking a loose lock of Lucius's hair behind his ear. "Listen to me for a moment," he implored in a gentle, harmless tone. "If you come peacefully, and quietly to my family's home, continuing to act as my lover, and don't find yourself satisfied, I'll let you leave." Percy cupped the brunet's cheek in his palm. "You can go back to the streets I found you wandering, if that's what will please you. But only if you do this for me."_

_"D-do... do you swear?"_

_Percy nodded. "I cross my heart."_

_"Why—why me?"_

_"Because I'm in love with you."_

"Lu? Noah says—" Torrey paused upon reentering the room when he spotted Lucille's journal in his hands. His lover jumped upon hearing his voice, and instantly snapped it shut, hooking a pen around the cover. "What are you writing about, hon?"

Lucille swallowed hard. "N-nothing important. Just... concepts."

"Need someone to help flesh them out? You know I'm a good listener."

Silence enveloped the room, and Torrey stepped inside, holding a hand out for the journal, though far enough away so that it didn't suggest that saying no wasn't an option. Lucille shook his head, putting it in his lap and securing it with a hand. "I'm fine, Victor."

Torrey smiled. "Well, in any case, like I was saying," he began, "Noah says that dinner's up to us tonight. Have anything in mind for what you'd want to eat?"

"Can... we go grocery shopping for things to make sometime, if we're going to have to cook often?"

The smile faltered. "I think the corner store was enough for now, Luci." Victor sat on the bed, holding Lucille's hand. "I'd want us to make something out of we already have in the fridge and pantry prior to considering the store. Besides, I wouldn't want you... getting lost, hon. You can understand that, right? And we have everything we'd need in the house; chicken, beef, pork, ground beef, steaks, and all sorts of vegetables and spices."

Lucille fixed him with a hurt look. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

Victor grimaced. "I know you've given me very few reasons not to, Luci, but... when you ask to leave so many times in such a short span, I have to wonder if it's a genuine need, cabin fever, or an escape plan. Can you blame me? For all I know, you could be writing it in your journal." He folded his hands in his lap, letting out a sigh. "That, and if I took you to the store, there's no telling how many local werewolves there'd be that Edgar's dad might have out there looking for you. And what's stopping you from asking for security somewhere to separate us—"

"You know, for someone who's a murderous vampire that expects me to put all of my faith in them, I'm not seeing any returned favors, Victor."

"That's different, Lucille. You're trusting me not to hurt you. I'd have to be trusting you not to run to any authorities to report what we're doing." The blond reached back for Lucille's hand, holding it against his chest, a serious expression adorning his face. "With the trip to my uncles coming up, does making my dads suspicious sound like something you want to do right now, honey?"

"N-no."

Torrey rubbed at Lucille's back, offering a sympathetic look. "You'll be okay, angel. Just don't look so tense." He tucked a lock of hair behind Lucille's ear, and the brunet shuddered at the parallel with his journal. "Are you cold?"

"A bit," Lucille lied. "Could you turn the heat on?"

"Of course. I can do that while we look for things to make for dinner." Victor stood up, holding out a hand to Lucille, who took it and helped himself up with little effort. "I'll check your bandages again tonight to see how much they've healed, too." He pulled open the bedroom door, looking back to his boyfriend, who continued to stand by his bed, awkwardly holding the journal. "Coming?"

"Y-yeah, I'm coming."

Lucille waited until Torrey was most of the way downstairs, then slipped the notebook back beneath the mattress and made his way down to the kitchen.


	12. Plant Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t get a succulent at least once in your life, are you really even gay???

It was the first normal dinner that Lucille had eaten in a while. No being force-fed meds, no being left alone with Victor, no passing out. He and Victor had settled on chicken soup to eat from a recipe from a cookbook he'd bought Noah for his birthday just a few months back. It was one of Victor's favorite foods, and Lucille thought it would be best to keep everyone in a good mood.

Vaughn seemed tense at the table, glancing between Victor and Lucille, his eyes begging for some form of conversation to start up between everyone. "The food is excellent, you two. You did an amazing job." He cleared his throat, taking a bite from the soup. "Say, what about we make tonight a nice, family game night? Pull out a few board games, or card games like we usually do?"

Lucille bit down on his lip. "I... it's getting late, and it's dark," he murmured. "I'm exhausted, so I think I might go to bed early tonight."

Victor moved to brush the back of his palm over Lucille's cheek, offering him a look of concern. "Really? I thought that my blood would perk you up enough to give you a burst of energy for the rest of the day," he said, when his lover shot him a brief glare, and he coughed. "Anyhow, I'm feeling a little tired too, actually. Had a bit too much sugar today, and it's gotten to my head a bit. Sorry, Dad, but I'm not feeling up for games."

Noah hummed. "Let's call it an early night, then. I'll put away leftovers after dinner, and take a look at your bandages, Luce. You just go and make yourself comfortable upstairs after you're finished with your food." He glanced to Victor, raising a brow. "And no staying up late tonight, or trying to convince me that you defied the vampire race and caught a cold just to get out of work, is that understood, Torrey?"

"I would _never_ ," his son scoffed. "At least not when I know that I won’t get away with it."

Surprisingly enough, Lucille allowed himself to laugh, earning a smile from Noah. He finished off his bowl with little effort, placing it in the sink before excusing himself to go upstairs. Lucille dug through the drawers of the dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama shorts, and changing into them, preemptively drawing off his shirt. Curious, he placed a hand on top of the bandages, pressing gently at them. The pain was enough to get him to wince and be more than reluctant to bump into anything for sure, but there was a distinct difference between how he felt now, and earlier in the morning.

If he'd been given numbing cream, he doubted that his body would hurt as much. He laid his head onto a pillow, shifting about to get comfortable and nestling his nose into it. If there was one thing Victor was right about, it was that his blood had given him energy that he wasn't sure how to get rid of. A part of him was disgusted that he'd willingly drank his blood, much less that he enjoyed doing it. It should have made him sick—throw up, but he'd swallowed it down as if he'd been starved.

The bedroom door eased open, and Noah stepped in with a fresh roll of bandages, towels, and some peroxide, holding them out with a grin. "Alright my dear, sit up and let me have a look at you." He sat himself on the bed, reaching out to unwrap his chest. "So, you got to have a small taste of Victor's blood, did you? Let's see how that did for you."

"Hopefully... decent," Lucille said with a shrug, gasping as he saw the wounds, which had entirely scabbed over, and looked to be healing nicely, with only a small bit of dried blood surrounding the marks. "W- _wow_ , I didn't—I didn't expect that."

"Thirsty, were you?" Noah chuckled. "Vampire blood has very addictive qualities when you start to drink it, so I'm not surprised that you drank a bit more than you intended to."

"A-addictive? I'm not... g-going to get addicted to it, am I?"

Noah shook his head. "No, no. There are very rare cases of that happening. Most of it is when you're drinking, and some minimal aftershocks." He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of peroxide, spilling a bit of it onto a towel and moving closer to the blood spots. "This might sting, dear. Be patient with me, and you'll be on your way to sleep soon enough. I won't bother you too long." The man swabbed at Lucille's chest with a gentle touch, pausing at the occasional flinch. "Does it hurt?"

"A bit, but I'm okay."

Silence enveloped the room, and Noah started to wrap fresh bandages around his wounds. "So... what's with the change of heart this year, Lucille, if I may ask?" He asked softly. "I remember telling Victor that he was free to invite you on our trip last time, but you didn't seem too eager to say yes. I figured that you would be a lot less willing to go come along after... learning about our vampirism, and all of the killing we do."

"I-I figure that if I'm going to be around for a while, it would be better to rip off the, ehm... metaphorical band-aid and get meeting them over with, you know?" Lucille sniffed, thanking Noah when he tucked the leftover bandage, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry if that sounds like a bullshit excuse. I'm trying to cope with all of this in any way I can. I'm trying. I'm trying to make it work."

"Well, if it's any consolation," Noah said, patting Lucille's back, "I think you're doing an excellent job, Lucille. Now you go and get some rest. What with all the ruckus we'll be making in the morning, you'll need to get as much sleep as you can so it doesn't bother you too much." He stood up, gathering his supplies and making his way towards the door, then shifted his gaze back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry you've been roped into all of this on such short notice."

"It's okay." Lucille slipped off his glasses, then eased beneath the covers, going back to his pillow, and Noah shut off the light, closing the door behind him as he left into the hall. He heaved a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't know what to do. After his first normal dinner, he was having his first, normal sleep after a mostly normal day.

It felt... _wrong_ , somehow. Like the day was supposed to have gone wrong—like there wasn't supposed to be anything close to ordinary when it came to Victor. He wanted normal, but it felt terrible. Shouldn't he hate Torrey? His family? Everything that was going on around him?

"Hey, pumpkin? I'm going to bed, but if you need anything, just let me know."

Lucille jolted at the sound of Victor's voice. "O-okay."

"Love you, honey-bun!"

"Love you, too."

The brunet tucked the blankets up around his shoulders with a sniff, letting out a yawn. He drew his knees to his chest, hoping that sleep would come soon. However, his thoughts started to wander, and vampires came to mind. It struck him, suddenly, that apart from what Victor had told him, and what he'd seen, he knew... nothing about them. Their mannerisms, how to identify one, how often they needed to eat. After all, last night was the fourth body that had come into the house in—how long had it been? A week?

Where were the bodies going? They couldn't possibly be burying them in their backyard, and Noah had said himself that they wouldn't dare leave anything out in front of him without his expressed permission, so they couldn't possibly be anywhere left unlocked.

And just how had he not known about the second room in the basement where he'd found Victor and his family? The blood trail—he was so stupid to believe Torrey's bloody nose lie. If he would have just found the second room right then, there would have been no way for them to get away with it, or contain him during work hours.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty, he guessed, and he'd always been known for his shit vision.

Before he knew it, he turned over to take a look at the alarm clock on the side table, finding that it was nearly midnight. He heaved a sigh, then hesitated.

There had been a book Vaughn had asked him to read over to get his opinion on, writer to writer. It had only been a brief manuscript at the time, about a vampire. Admittedly, he hadn't been that interested at the time, with his focus ironically having been on writing Victor into one of his stories as a werewolf, ironically enough. He knew it had information about a vampire who had been newly turned, but hadn't gotten far into the point where he got any decent information. If he was lucky, it would have some truth to it.

It was published not long after, and Vaughn always put the first printed copies of all his books on the shelf closest to the stairs as mementos to keep track of his writing experience. Lucille had to wonder... if Vaughn was a vampire, just how many books on that shelf were actually his own? Wherever the book was, he needed to find it if he wanted access to information on vampires without having to ask anyone, provided it was based off of a realistic vampire, and not spliced with bits of fiction.

Gods, he sounded insane. Vampires were real, werewolves were real—what else was out there?

Lucille sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, then slid off onto the floor, and made his way down to the living room.

Vaughn glanced up from his book at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs in the dark, watching as Lucille made every effort to remain silent while making his way into the kitchen. He was about to stand up and ask to know what he was doing, when the teen poured himself a glass of water and walked over towards the bookshelves. Guilt plagued his chest for a moment upon realizing that he'd been putting needless suspicions on him.

He knew that he scared the poor boy—he'd scared him ever since threatening him, and causing the bruise on his wrist that he hadn't intended to make by any means. Vaughn wasn't sure if it was because Lucille knew the doors were locked, but there was nothing odd to suspect about the teen's behavior.

"Chronicles of a... what was it called?" Lucille murmured aloud, gasping as his fingers brushed over a familiar, thick, hardcover book with raised lettering on the spine. " _There_ you are."

The vampire's eyebrows quirked upward. _Chronicles of a Modern Vampire_ , he thought. It was a book he'd written a year or so back, based off of a series of diaries he kept in the nineteenth century, mostly. It was from the perspective of his young adult self and how he'd adapted to the modern world, and found romance.

It was one of his bestsellers, most popular with young and older women. As he recalled, Lucille had read it once before, but bashfully, and apologetically admitted to Vaughn that he hadn't enjoyed it very much—not his typical read.

_So why was he picking it up again now?_

"Trouble sleeping?" Vaughn spoke, causing Lucille to stifle a cry of fright and stumble back onto the floor, his water glass shattering upon striking the floor. "A-ah! I hadn't meant to frighten you, Lucille, I..." He froze as the teen braced himself against the bookshelves, able to hear the boy's heart hammering hard in his chest, his eyes wide with fear. "L-Lucille...? You didn't—y-you didn't think..."

Lucille's breath shook. "I-I was just—I-I was just look—l-looking for a book, M-mister Bathory, I swear!" He shakily held out the book, tears beginning to prickle at his eyes.

Vaughn knelt down to Lucille's side. "Luci, I'm not going to hurt you, dear, I-I was only wondering why you're reading my book, after saying that you didn't like it very much." He helped him up off of the floor, a bit hurt by the way the teen flinched. "That isn't to say I'm not appreciative of you taking up my form of literature, but..."

"I-I think I should get back to bed now," Lucille whispered.

"Are you afraid of me, Lucille?"

The teen gasped. "I..."

"Lucille, I swear I won't harm you," Vaughn promised. "I realize... that I've been hard on you lately, and that I've done a cruel thing to you." He motioned to Lucille's wrist. "I've been acting less than ideal with anything regarding you leaving the house, but after today—" He stopped to pause as Lucille sat up against the book cases, reaching out to help him stand. "You've proven to me that you can be trusted. I realize that my mistrust has hurt you, and I'd like to apologize."

Lucille tentatively took Vaughn's hand, using it to bring himself up. "It's—it's just that... the threats—the bruise, the snapping, dictating where I can and can't go, or what I can't do... it's making me see parallels with my dad," he murmured quietly. "And it scared me to think that I might have to go through that again." The teen felt tears well in his eyes. "I was terrified of my dad, Vaughn, and I don't want to be afraid of you, b-but with everything I know right now, I... I..."

The vampire's eyes widened, and he drew Lucille close for a hug, gently ruffling his hair. "I would never treat you like your father did, Luci," he swore. "Given the circumstances, it was best for me to take strict precautions with you. I hadn't intended for you to be scared of me. I think of you as a son, Lucille, and I'd never wish fear onto you. Not intentionally." Vaughn gave him a tight squeeze, his heart aching as Lucille returned the gesture. " _Nothing_ is going to hurt you while we're around."

"You're—you're sure?"

"Positive," the man confirmed, then released Lucille with a sigh. "Now, may I ask why you want to read my book?"

Lucille sniffed. "I r-remember it talks about turning, a-and abilities," he spoke quietly. "I wanted to learn, so that—s-so that I could make sense of all this, and... and understand, even just a little bit."

Vaughn reached behind Lucille, drawing out a red, leather bound tome and placing it in Lucille's palms. "You might have better luck finding what you're looking for in here, dear. It's a compendium on the paranormal and supernatural." He tapped at the cover. "This one mainly details the likes of vampires, demons, and werewolves—all very closely related, yet vastly different."

A shocked look flashed in Lucille's eyes. "D-demons?" He whispered. "How many more kinds of monsters are out there?"

The vampire gave him a kind, gentle look. "Let's stick to the basics for now, okay?" He asked softly. "Maybe when you're all ready and studied up with the book, and... have passed a few homemade quizzes. Does that sound alright?"

Lucille nodded.

"Good boy," Vaughn praised. "Now, if you'd like to stay up late and read, you may. But I don't want you down here falling asleep on the couch, so why don't you head back upstairs to your room?" He delivered a light, harmless pinch to Lucille's cheek, receiving a small, tentative smile in return. "Let me get you a new glass of water. In a plastic cup this time, maybe. Don't worry about the mess; I'll clean it up."

A stifled titter slipped from Lucille, and he nodded. "Th-that would be nice, thank you."

Vaughn placed a hand on Lucille's shoulder.. "We love you, Lucille. You know that, don't you?"

"I... I know." Lucille nodded once more, albeit his tone conveying a fair hint of hesitance. "Y-you love me, and you won't—you won't hurt me." He wrung his hands in an anxious manner as Vaughn led him into the kitchen to retrieve another cup. "Am I really safe here, like Victor says?"

"Of course you are, darling," Vaughn insisted. "We wouldn't have it any other way. Keeping our family safe is what we vampires do. And you _are_ family, after all." He filled a cup of cold water, handing it to Lucille. "Sleep well, Luce. And don't let that book give you nightmares. If there's anything in there that concerns you, or that you question, you need only ask."

"I will," the teen affirmed, promptly ascending the stairs and stepping into his guest bedroom. He was surprised that after the previous night, Torrey hadn't insisted on accompanying him to bed. He supposed—in a hopeful, yet unlikely way—that it was the vampire's form of respecting his boundaries, but a part of him felt that there was more to it than just his personal space.

He set the tome and water down on opposite ends of his bedside table, crawling beneath the covers and burying himself deep into his pillows, squeezing his eyes shut. If there was anything he wanted after a day of being thrown through the mental hoop of rationalizing Edgar's lycanthropy and a murder in the same day, it was most _definitely_ a good night's sleep.

It involved a great deal of tossing and turning, he soon discovered. The face of the officer was burning itself into his eyes, filling him with discomfort, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. He swallowed hard, reaching out for his water and taking a few short sips.

"T-Torrey," Lucille called quietly, drawing in a sniff as he began to tremble. He felt pitiful, crying out for the very person responsible for the series of events that had taken place the previous night. "Can you come here?"

In what seemed like an instant, there was a gentle knock at his door, and Torrey poked his head in, looking worried. "Did you call for me, angel?"

"I can't fall asleep," the latter whispered.

Torrey stepped inside, closing the door behind him and smoothing a kiss over Lucille's forehead and sliding into bed beside him, fastening his arms around his waist. To his surprise, Lucille turned over, pressing closer to him and burying his head in his chest for comfort with a sigh of relief, and his heart skipped. "It's okay; I've got you now. Everything's alright," he promised, raising a hand to swipe away his tears. "I love you, Lucille."

"I-I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"No, no, it's okay," Torrey assured, when he felt a tremor race through Lucille's body. He pulled back for a moment, much to his boyfriend's confusion, and sat up, slipping off his shirt. The vampire pulled it over Lucille's head, tugging the hem beneath his hips with a smile before laying back down. "Tell me what's wrong, Luce."

The latter sniveled. "Y-yesterday, I told you—I told you that I had a nightmare."

Victor tilted his head. "What about it?"

"It was about you," Lucille admitted. "You took me downstairs. There was—there was blood _everywhere_. I-it was pouring off the table like—like an ocean, and then..." He shook his head. "I had fangs—and I fell into the blood on the floor. I-I was drowning."

A troubled look crossed Torrey's face. "Is that why you went downstairs?"

"I-I needed water," the smaller murmured. "It was like I could—I could _taste_ it."

"Don't worry, hon. No blood fountain is going to sprout up on the dinner table." Victor tickled at Lucille's neck, and his lover humored him for a brief moment, letting out a weak giggle. "If one does, you'll be the first to know." He pressed his lips to his boyfriend's cheek, gradually moving to the corner of Lucille's lips, inviting him for a kiss.

Lucille tentatively looked up, his breath hitching at the sight of Victor's fangs. Sensing his hesitation, Victor pulled back slightly, but Lucille delved deep into the kiss. "Promise me?"

"I promise, baby, I promise," Victor assured him, and he cupped Lucille's face in his palms, affectionately stroking his cheeks. He could smell the blood pooling to the surface of Lucille's skin, hearing it rush through his veins in a delicious, succulent melody. Hunger grew in his stomach, and he felt Lucille's tongue brush against his fangs, entranced by the sweet sounds of pleasure emanating from his lover.

A soft, yet subdued moan escaped Lucille, and he wrapped his thighs around Torrey's hips, gasping out as a low, deep growl rumbled in Victor's stomach. "V-Vic?" He whispered, causing Victor to hesitate before drawing back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. All of that kissing s-sort of got my appetite going, and I couldn't help it." Torrey drew in a deep breath running a hand through his hair. "We shouldn't go too far, Luci. I don't want to accidentally hurt you, as much as I want to make out with you until I start to melt right now. I know you got healed up a bit, but I don't want to push you."

The brunet nodded. "Th-that's okay," he hummed, then nestled back into Torrey's chest, mentally chastising himself for letting Victor get so far, much less letting himself kiss him, even if he was just playing house until he got to leave. "Goodnight, Torrey."

"Goodnight, honey." Victor pecked Lucille's forehead. "Will you be fine all by yourself tomorrow? I wish I could stay with you all day, but it takes three people minimum to run the café, so I'll only be able to pop in and check on you during my breaks and lunch, or if you catch me while I'm in the kitchen." He placed another kiss on his shoulder. "Of course, maybe you could be my little helper then, hm? You wouldn't be out in front of customers, so you could even wear that cute, pink apron I got for you last Valentine's Day."

"Oh, you wish," Lucille grumbled, earning a laugh in return.

Victor closed his eyes, snuggling closer to his boyfriend. "Get some sleep."

The brunet allowed his eyes to fall closed, and despite being wide awake, the tender, rhythmic rubs his lover was pushing into his back started to ease into the arms of sleep

Lucille awoke to a light knock at his door, and he immediately flinched awake, his eyes snapping wide open with a gasp. He looked around for a moment, finding that Victor had gone. There was another knock, and he let out a groan, stretching out his arms over his head. "Come in!"

Torrey pushed open the door, holding a tray of food in his arms with a bright grin. "Morning, honey-bun! I brought you a little something. Toast, scrambled eggs with lots of ketchup, and bacon extra crispy, just how you like it!" He folded out the tray stands, sitting himself on the bed. "I got a head start on baking this morning, so I wanted to make you feel special today by giving you breakfast in bed."

"B-breakfast in bed? Vic, you didn't have to do that for me, baby."

"Aw, hush," Torrey pressed his lips against Lucille's, chuckling as his boyfriend began to kiss him back. "You're in an awfully chipper mood today, aren't you? Calling me _baby_ and all of that sweet stuff. Any special occasion, lovebird?" He leaned his head on Lucille's shoulder, playfully nipping at his neck. "Other than the fact that I'm a total hottie with irresistible charm, and extremely soft, kissable lips?"

The latter shook his head. "Just... trying my best, and I'm thanking you for breakfast. It—it can be a good, normal day today, right? No... vampire related extracurriculars?" He sat himself up, scooping up eggs into his mouth and taking a bite of bacon as Torrey nodded. "How long do you have up here, anyway? Won't Noah and Vaughn get mad if they find out that you're up here and not in the kitchen working?"

"Sh... don't spoil the moment, pumpkin. Eat your food, and we can cuddle until I have to go back down to work. I'm allowed to dote on you, aren't I?" Victor stroked Lucille's cheek with the back of his hand, and he picked at pieces of his breakfast, pretending to bite at the brunet's hands when he swatted at him to keep him away from his food. "Any plans for today?"

"Nothing much," Lucille hummed. "I figured that I would go downstairs and find something to read. Writing hasn't been treating me too well."

A knowing look crossed Victor's face. "Vaughn told me he gave you the compendium. I saw it on your bedside table when I woke up. When I was growing up, I used to read it a lot—er... well, I skimmed it, sort of. It was a rite of passage type deal. Super boring, since I'm not the biggest fan of non-fiction." He beamed up at Lucille, poking his cheek. "I like your books, after all. You make vampires sound so romantic. The werewolves were okay, I guess, but I much prefer the devilishly handsome, dark prince."

Lucille's eyes flew open wide. "Th-the what?!"

Torrey tilted his head, sneaking a slice of bacon and raising a brow at him. "Remember? A few weeks ago when we were sitting on your bed watching one of those rom-coms Edgar pretends he doesn't own from under his desk? And I popped in Dracula, because we got bored," he recalled. "You said it reminded you of something, and pulled out your journal to have me read. The prince who took in a vampire, and the two of them fell in love?"

" _Oh_ ," Lucille heaved a sigh of relief.

" _Victor_! Cupcakes need frosting!"

"Whoops! Gotta go, hon," the vampire laughed, sliding off the bed before pausing. "Unless you want to come and frost cupcakes with me? I'll let you eat some of the buttercream frosting you're always not-so-subtly sneaking from the bowl."

"Maybe later?" The smaller teen let out a yawn, then dug back into his food while Victor went back downstairs. It was incredible, to say the least—much better than any breakfast that Torrey had made before. He wasn't sure what it was, but was extremely tempted to ask if there were any seconds if he didn't have a date with the thousand page long book that he planned on taking semi-detailed notes of in a spare journal, if he could find one.

Eventually, he decided to do what he'd seen in a few double-sided kids books that his parents used to buy him when he was little, and flip his journal upside-down and backwards to write in a way that wouldn't disturb any writing of his own. Not that he'd manage to fill up the pages enough to have a problem with that, of course. Not if he was leaving for good in a few weeks.

He paused for a moment.

In a few weeks, he wouldn't have to deal with vampires anymore, just... whatever werewolf stuff involved Edgar. No bodies, no blood, no killing, no rationalizing, no Victor, no work, no...

Lucille's breath hitched.

_No Victor?_

He'd have no one to kiss him good morning, no one to make breakfast with in the morning with playful flirting, and nobody to hold him while he fell asleep. There wouldn't be any dates, late night cuddling during movies, or... a family around to support him when he was having a rough time.

What would he even do with himself if he didn't have Victor? Without him, he'd just be a jobless aspiring author living paycheck to paycheck while Edgar worked part-time shifts at the tattoo shop and went out with his friends in his down time. If he were honest, Edgar never made much, with most of everything falling on Lucille's shoulders. Of course, he had his father as a cushion to fall back on.

It wasn't to say that Edgar was wealthy, but his initial reasoning for moving out was because it had seemed fun to him, and Mister Jones had told him that his home would always be open to him. It had been up to Edgar to pay the bills at first, back when he was the only one living there, but when Lucille moved in, the two of them were splitting the cost of rent. However, Edgar had steadily been spending more time out, and Lucille was having to make up for it by working twice his normal hours at the cafe, which Noah and Vaughn had never minded offering him.

He always meant to bring it up to Edgar, but could never find it in himself to do it. After all, he didn't want to potentially spark an argument between himself and his only means of housing outside of Victor's home.

The teen sighed, shaking his head and clicking his pen, placing the compendium in front of him and flipping open it with his notepad. Drawing in a deep breath, he started to read.

Vampires turned out to be a lot more complex and interesting than he'd bargained for. If they got too hungry, their skin would lose pigment and become almost translucent to where the veins were visible. Their fangs would sharpen—he didn't quite know how that worked yet, and their nails would harden and sharpen, as well. Strangely, they only needed to feed a few times a week, so the body count didn't quite make sense, although... the police officer was on him.

His best guess was that with their family size, all of the running around they were doing at the cafe, their appetites must be bigger than the usual vampire's, but even then, the book only said they needed about a pint. Granted, if they had to kill people to feed, he supposed that it might be considered a waste of food if they left the rest of the blood out.

Lucille winced. _Shit, he was rationalizing again_.

A shiver rolled down his spine.

_How much of that would he have to do with Edgar?_

Thanks to the book, he also knew that vampires had a sort of hierarchy. The High Court, or so it was called, was an elite group of vampires descended from the only ones turned by the first to ever exist. It was made up of the strongest vampires in existence, but there weren't any names in the section that he could ask about, much less make out on the page, with how faded the list of last names were. Which was odd, especially considering how seriously Vaughn took care of his books.

From what he read, he had also figured out that vampires with powerful bloodlines were capable of learning magic, which was yet another new thing he learned existed. Some could manipulate electricity, others could communicate telepathically. It made him wonder what sort of abilities Victor had, or better yet, Vaughn and Noah, and the rest of their family. He'd scribbled down as much as he could in his notebook, but after a few hours of reading, he was feeling burnt out, and in desperate need of lunch.

Lucille made his way downstairs, finding the pair of husbands seated at the dining table with sandwiches, giving each other the occasional chaste kiss. "H-hey," he greeted, causing the two to back away slightly from each other before chuckling. "Sandwiches?"

"Tuna, dear. I made plenty!" Noah smiled, motioning towards a plate sitting on the island half filled with neatly cut tuna sandwiches. "I'm at the end of my lunch break. What have you been up to?"

"Just reading, is all." Lucille plucked a sandwich from the counter. "I was taking some notes."

"Well, aren't you diligent?" Vaughn's face adopted a proud grin, and he tapped at the table. "I've got something for you, Lu. Come! Have a seat."

A confused look took over Lucille's expression, and he tilted his head. "For... me? What—?" He took a plate from the cabinets, sitting down at the table with his sandwich and taking a small bite out of the corner, when Vaughn slid something out from under his chair and produced a box. "What's this?" Lucille reached out, and Vaughn passed it to him. It wasn't wrapped, or anything special, just a smaller hat box.

With a hesitant breath, Lucille raised the lid of the box to find a small, potted succulent leaf, and a book hidden beneath it. A gasp slipped from his lips, and he lifted it out of the box, reaching in for the book. It was a small, older book on horticulture with the cover title in gold leaf and depictions of roses wrapping around the book.

Vaughn cleared his throat. "I can tell that... you didn't take well to having blood on your hands, Lucille," he said softly, placing a hand on Lucille's shoulder. "I thought it might help you cope mentally if... maybe you could give life to something instead. Obviously you don't have to do this, and I'm not asking you to, but the horticulture book has a full section on succulents you can read. And of course, we have our small garden in the backyard we haven't used in months, on account of the spring rain storms flooding the flowerbeds, if you should ever choose to take plant husbandry as a hobby."

"You... got all of this just to help me?" Lucille asked in disbelief, placing the pot and book back into the box to safely carry them upstairs after he ate. "I don't—I don't know what to say—or how to begin to thank—" He stopped. "I... I can go in the backyard?"

Noah smiled. "Vaughn and I spoke last night. He thought that the house might get a bit too suffocating at times, so we've decided that you're more than welcome to go out in the backyard as you wish, so long as someone is home to keep an ear, or eye out."

"R-really?" The brunet glanced at Vaughn. "But yesterday, when I asked to get snacks—"

"Nevermind that, Lucille. Call it a change of heart."

Lucille took a large bite out of his sandwich, giving it a thoughtful chew. "Would this mean I could be taken to the store to get seeds, and fertilizer?"

"While I would love nothing more than to say yes," Noah started, causing Lucille to grimace, "I think that you should start out small, hence the small succulent. If you can keep it happy and healthy, and you're serious about having your own little garden, we can pick out a few flowers or vegetables to plant outside. How does that sound?"

The latter considered it for a moment, but couldn't shake the feeling that it was a little too good to be true. "No strings attached?"

Vaughn hummed. "Of course not. It wouldn't be healthy for you to be holed up inside all the time, and thought an exchange of trust was in order. And what better way to implement that by having it aid your mental health, as well?"

A small beeping emanated from Noah's watch, and the vampire jumped. "Ah! That's my que. You boys have fun; I need to help Victor deal with the mid-afternoon rush of college students." He stood up, pressing a kiss to Vaughn's lips, and one to Lucille's forehead. "Don't cause too much trouble, now, my loves. Be good, and I'll bring you both some cupcakes later. Today's batch is filled with chocolate fudge frosting," Noah said, fixing Vaughn with a sly smile. "Your favorite."

"Oh, you tease me too much, darling." Vaughn pecked Noah's cheek, and his husband chuckled, then excused himself to go out into the cafe. "The little leaf of yours could be anything, you know," he pointed out, tapping the hat box. "I stopped by a flower shop around the corner, and asked for a random one of their leaves as a surprise. So long as you don't water it too much, you should be safe until you figure out what type it is."

"Thank you, Vee, it's really nice. Combined with breakfast in bed, today... has been pretty nice."

"So _that's_ what Victor was doing earlier," Vaughn tutted. "In any case, where do you think you'll put it?"

Lucille drummed his fingers along the table. "In the window, maybe? There's not much sunlight coming from that side of the house, but I think it should be fine." He finished his sandwich, prodding gently at the leaf. "It's kind of cute, with how tiny it is. It sort of looks like a rose petal."

"You think so?" Vaughn leaned over the box. "Er, that reminds me. Lucille..." He reached out, holding the teen's hands in his own and lowering his tone. "Victor, Noah and I are going out tonight after it gets dark. And we'll be bringing home... dinner of the vampire sort. I don't want to startle you like what happened a few days ago."

"H-haven't—haven't you guys gotten enough blood from...?"

Vaughn shook his head. "It's not just us we're feeding, Luci. Some vampires in the area don't have very easy access to blood, so we share fairly often." He stood up from the table, putting his plate in the sink and holding a hand out for Lucille's, which he was promptly handed in return. "It's something you'll have to get used to, but I wanted to let you know in advance. Ah—" Upon seeing the time on the oven clock, he groaned. "Do you think Noah would notice if I stayed past time to read?"

"I can't cover your extra break, Vaughn, so I don't think that'll work."

"Mm, pity." Vaughn pushed his hair back with a hand, reaching out for his apron and tying it around his waist. "We're having steaks for dinner. Asparagus wrapped in bacon on the side, and some roasted potatoes, so be sure to go easy on your snacks and keep that stomach of yours reasonably empty. Sound good?"

 _Sure it did,_ Lucille thought. _Especially if he wasn't going to throw up when their next victim got dragged in._

"Um..." Lucille held his hands together. "V-Vaughn, please... can you tell me where the bodies go? _Please_?"

The vampire drew Lucille in for a side hug. "Not for a while longer, Lu, but we'll tell you. Just be patient." He pushed open the door to the cafe, closing it tightly behind him.

Lucille tugged at his hair in distress, then hesitated. _He could just look for himself, couldn't he?_ The brunet turned to the basement door, making his way towards it and trying the knob, gasping out as it opened. Though, if he were honest, he shouldn't have been surprised, what with the amount of times he'd had to grab something from down there during work hours. His heart steadily began to race, and he stepped down to the floor, moving in the direction of the wall he'd seen opened.

It had been like a door, pushed in, almost like a hidden passage bookshelf from out of a movie. Strangely, he couldn't find any trace of a crack in the wall that would suggest any sort of door, and it wouldn't be possible for there to even be a door that could fit perfectly without a gap. Lucille placed his ear against the wall, knocking hard. It didn't sound solid, and he could hear an echo resonating back from the room opposite of it. He considered a hidden passageway from above the room he'd seen, but the only thing over that area was the ground.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Lucille's breath caught in his throat. He rushed towards the pantry, pulling open the door to seem busy.

"Honey?" Victor frowned when he didn't see Lucille in the kitchen, but saw the basement door open and let out a sigh of relief. He peeked down the stairs, giving his lover a wave. "Luci, what are you doing down here?"

"Hm?" Lucille looked up. "Oh! I just heard what we were having for dinner, and... figured I'd take a look to see what I could set aside for tomorrow." He bit his lip, stepping back from the pantry and closing the door a bit. "Is... that okay? Sh-should I not be down here?"

Victor only laughed. "No need to look so nervous." He stood in the doorway, smothering a smirk and bouncing on his feet. "Come on back up, sweetheart. I'm on my lunch break for a half hour." The blond extended his hands out, making grabbing motions towards his boyfriend, who closed the pantry door the rest of the way and started up the stairs. He closed the door behind them, placing his hands on Lucille's waist. "You seem tense... can I help?"

Lucille's cheeks flushed with heat. "W-what do you mean? I'm not tense, I feel—" He started to turn around, but was met by a soft, gentle kiss. "Torrey? Ack—!" A cry of surprise escaped him as he was swept up into Victor's arms, and in moments, Torrey held him on the couch with a teasing grin. Before he knew it, his cheeks were being attacked by harmless pecks from Victor's lips, and his heart fluttered.

 _Of course_ , he thought. It was Torrey's lunch break, otherwise known as the thirty minutes the two had to themselves every day of the week, since they always took their breaks together. He couldn't remember a time they hadn't used it to cuddle on the couch. It was mostly kissing, but occasionally they would turn on a quick episode of whatever show they had been watching at the time, if there was one to watch. Although it mostly ended up being background noise.

Things never got too heavy, obviously. Work was work, and they respected that... _usually_.

"You're looking especially adorale today. And not just because you're still wearing my shirt," Victor murmured between kisses, wrapping his arms around Lucille's chest. "When I woke up, I almost had to pry you off of me with a crowbar," he snickered, then leaned in closer, capturing Lucille's lips. "I thought I would return the favor?" The vampire tickled at his neck, and his boyfriend giggled quietly. He nestled his head into the crook of Lucille's neck, laying tender kisses against his skin, feeling the satisfying rush of blood beneath the surface while a red blush spread over.

"Making out when I have tuna breath?"

Torrey poked Lucille's nose. "There are other places I can kiss, you know," he whispered, squeezing his hip with a hand, earning a squeak in response. "I'm only poking fun, lover."

The two sat for a moment, enjoying the surprisingly pleasant mood that settled in the room. It was unusual. Despite the fact that he was letting his deadly, vampire boyfriend play with his hair, fangs inches from his neck, he didn't mind it too much. Maybe it was him trying to shut out what had happened the other night and focus on things that made him feel better, but it definitely felt relieving to be free from the chaos that was murder, blood drinking, and the fear of being made into their next meal for most of the day. One of his favorite foods for dinner didn't make it worse, either.

Though he was trying desperately to keep his mind off of the other item on the menu.

"I got a plant," he said. "A little succulent I get to raise myself."

"Really? Where'd you manage to get one from?"

Lucille shrugged. "It was a present. Supposed to help me cope, sort of? You know, giving something life after... taking one. I even got a horticulture book, and Vaughn said I could use the garden if I do a good enough job taking care of the little thing."

"Like plant therapy, then?" Torrey rested his cheek on his palm, using his other hand to twist his index finger in loops around a longer lock of his lover's hair. " _I_ think you should plant roses. White roses and lavender would be nice, don't you think? Maybe throw in some mint for the sweet, refreshing smell." He dropped a kiss on Lucille's forehead. "You know what you should do? Give your little plant a name. People get attached to something they give a name, right? I'm thinking you should call it Luci Junior."

A snort. "At the rate this household is going, I should name it Audrey."

" _Ha, ha_. You're cute." Victor sat up, stretching out his back and striding towards the hat box. "Just a little leaf, huh?"

"Hence the raising part," the brunet responded, following him to the table and lifting the box into his arms. "I should probably plant it soon, and give it a bit of water to start off." He started for his bedroom, and after a few minutes of deliberation, decided to put it on the right hand end of the side table beside his bed where it could get a decent bit of light.

With a bit of help from Victor, he dug a small hole in the dry soil Vaughn must have packed in before giving it to him, pushing the leaf into it and covering it up with what they'd taken out. For watering, Torrey had recommended a miniature water bottle to use.

"Think about it, Lu," he said. "If you know how much water it takes to soak it all completely, you can measure some up to make sure you're not overwatering it. You're supposed to water them whenever the dirt is completely dry."

Considering it a good idea, Lucille filled the bottle up in the bathroom, bringing it back into the bedroom and pouring it into the soil. It just barely flooded out of the holes at the bottom, and a smile widened across his face. "That should do it just fine." He sat on the bed, resting his arms on the side table and staring down at the risen bump in the dirt. "I'll have to think of a good name for him. One that would be sophisticated enough for a plant like... whatever type of succulent he is."

"Well, you take your time thinking about that." Torrey looped his arms around Lucille's waist. "I'm sure he'll appreciate knowing you tried to come up with the perfect name." He gave him another squeeze, then leaned against the open door. "I should head back," the vampire said, reluctance weighing heavy on his tone. "I'll let you know when we're headed out later, alright angel?"

"Sure, babe."

Again, he was alone.

The anxiety built up inside of him faster than he'd bargained for without someone like Victor or his dads to distract him from it.

_What would he do? Someone was going to die inside the house again, and he just had to sit upstairs when they went out and wait to be told it's okay to come down after the murder of a presumably guilty person they deemed unworthy of living? What if they lied, and there wasn't really a criteria?_

Lucille felt bile rise in his throat, and he began to shake, preemptively moving himself into the bathroom in case it got to be too much, with a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He sat on top of the floor vent and pulled the trash within arm's reach, hot air flowing up from his lap and causing the blanket to billow around him. It was a relaxing feeling, that was for sure, and he shuddered at the pleasant warmth, but it did little to ease his nerves.

He didn't know how the twisted family could chalk it up to something that he would just have to _get used to_. Was he trying to come to terms with everything? Yes, and he would take his sweet time doing so. Did that mean he would become immune to the terror that locked itself to his chest by some sudden, magical means? Absolutely not. Even if he wasn't watching it happen, or involved in it in some way, it still affected him.

Who was he kidding—by letting it happen, he was involved by default.

Resigning himself, he shifted onto his knees, leaning over the bathtub and reaching in for the dial, twisting it to warm. Water flowed out of the faucet in a steady surge, and he pulled off the shirt Victor had given him, followed by the rest of his clothes. He carefully unwrapped the bandages, thankful that his chest was clean. He remembered what Torrey said about baths, and the dirty water leading to a possible infection, but doubted it would do the same to a bunch of scabs.

The teen climbed into the tub, taking a large sponge from the side and placing it behind his head as he rested it against the top of the bath. Baths were calming, and there was no harm in being clean. He sank down into the water while the tub filled, waiting until it filled halfway to turn off the faucet and pull the curtains closed to stare up at the ocean fish scenery it held. Lucille sighed, moving onto his side to curl up into a ball.

"What have I gotten myself into?"


End file.
